Lisa Turpin Goes to Hogwarts
by Over.Thinking.Daily.Life
Summary: ABANDONED. See re-write with actual plot structure! Lisa always knew she was magical. After all, her mother was a powerful witch and Lisa was already mastering the arcane secrets of witchcraft. Then, an owl appeared with a letter. What in the Goddess's name was Hogwarts? (The Adventures of a Wiccan trained witch attending Hogwarts)
1. In Which Lisa Turpin Meets an Owl

A/N: a little idea I had floating around my head. What if a child raised in the muggle witchcraft tradition was asked to go to Hogwarts? Information is based on my studies of the tradition and are not meant to be derisive in any way. Please PM me if you have any suggestions or corrections.

At 4:54, Lisa's alarm clock went off with a shrill ring, until her little hand clamped down. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she padded down the short hallway to her mother's room and climbed on the bed.

"Mum, Mum, wake up!" She rocked her mother's shoulder impatiently. Celestia Rose Turpin, once Sally, mumbled something incoherent into her pillow and rolled over. Lisa shook her shoulder even harder- one eye on the clock over the bathroom door.

"Mum. You promised. You promised that you would help guide me in the ritual to greet the sun every morning from Bealtaine to Samhain. You promised." By now, the waking of Celestia was almost as much a ritual as greeting the sun. Lisa eyed the topped wine glass on the dresser, noting that once again the carpet had been stained. Once, the carpet had been white. But, like most things in their small home, it had faded to a dingy grey- enlivened only by drippings of wax, spills of wine, and small burns from toppled incense.

"And thrice cursed upon that promise," Celestia muttered into her pillow. Lisa, having completed her part of the ritual, hopped off the bed and began to gather up the toppled wine glass and plates around the room.

"Are you a high priestess or not?" She teased, heading towards the door. "The sun is up in 10 minutes. I'll set up the alter."

She headed down the hall to the kitchenette where she unceremoniously dumped the dishes in the battered sink, content to ignore them for the rest of the day. Already, the sky was paling in the east and Lisa closed her eyes, allowing the pre-dawn vibrations to resonate in her soul. She still couldn't feel much, but her training as a witch was only beginning.

First, she would have to become atune to the natural rhythms of the earth and sky. Only after her soul sung in time to the dance of the stars, the cycle of the seasons, would her mother begin to take her to the sacred places of Britain to be introduced to the guardians of those circles and glades. They had begun to plan the trip out after her 13th birthday. She had only just turned 11, but already she was making lists of what to see and deciding how much they should be saving each month.

"Oh, it will be a beautiful day!" Celestia strode into the room, robe not fully tied, and raised her arms towards the sun. For a moment, her face relaxed into blissful contemplation and Lisa's heart rose in her chest.

"Will it?" She asked, "Did you have a dream?"

"Time for Dream Discussion later," her mother replied and crossed over to the alter. They stood and then, following her mother's lead, they raised their hands to the lightening horizon.

 _Oh sun_

 _Giver of life, giver of light_

 _We greet you_

 _We greet you with open eyes_

 _That revel in your beauty_

 _We greet you with open hands_

 _That honor all you touch_

 _We greet you with open hearts_

 _That cherish all your gifts_

 _Guide our paths this day_

 _Oh bringer of fire, light, and comfort_

 _We thank you_

 _Oh sun_

Sometimes, Celestia would be inspired and greet the sun with song and long poetry to it's beauty. Sometimes she would take Lisa's hands and they would dance or stretch in the early morning light. Today, however, she fell silent, arms still outstretched, and Lisa closed her eyes to meditate on the gifts that the sun brought.

Today would be a good day, she decided. Today she was going to clean the house and then do some weeding in the yard. Then, she would ask her mother to do a tarot reading for her upcoming month. Then she would-

"Oh Lisa!"

Lisa's eyes opened and she was momentarily blinded by the sliver of gold over the horizon. But she quickly saw what her mother was pointing at. A large owl sat in the tree outside their house and seemed to be staring at them. Celestia, possibly still a little tipsy- Lisa didn't know when she returned home last night or opened the bottle of wine, was transported.

"Oh Lisa, what a good sign for the day. To greet the sun and to be greeted by an owl- the guardian of Athena, the keeper of secrets, who flies on silent wings and delivers death. I have to go look this up. What it might mean for the day. To have it be only a month- yes a month to the day- since Bealtaine."

Her mother ran back to her room still talking excitedly to herself. Lisa spared the owl another look. It blinked at her. She blinked back and decided that today was a good day indeed. But it was time to start breakfast.

All through breakfast and all through the clean up of breakfast, her mother sat glued to her books at the table, happily reading aloud what such a sign might mean. Lisa was happy to listen and absorb the information. She could, and did, read the books herself, but it gave her mother such pleasure to teach. That was why her mother was one of the primary teachers for the new initiates to their tradition.

"Oh Lisa, do you think it is a barn owl? Do we still have that book of bird watching or did John take that too when he- oh, I don't remember, but listen to this-"

Lisa dried the last plate and put it away. Good. The kitchen was clean. That was one thing off her list of chores and all before the mail came! The sound of said mail thunking against the welcome mat made her smile. Still listening to her mother rattle on about owl myths and superstitious, she collected the mail from the front door.

Bills. Bills. Two letters from Germany- some of mum's penpals no doubts. A catalogue, even though her mother considered them to be such a waste of paper and repeatedly wrote to be taken off the mailing list.

And then a letter. Thick, creamy parchment, sealed in a wax seal she didn't recognize. But, more interestingly, addressed to her.

"Lisa, is that-" Her mother's voice rang out- sharp and frantic. The letter was torn from her hands and her mother flipped it over to read the handwriting on the front, her shoulders tight around her ears. Her face a mask of desperate hope.

When she saw who it was addressed to, the disappointment was palpable. A third specter in the room that haunted the two of them no matter how much sage Lisa burned or how many mothballs she put in the corners of the house.

"He-" Her mother's voice had gone very thick, "He would sometimes send letters. On that parchment. Just to say hello and check on me. I thought-" Her voice cracked and Lisa suddenly realized that today would not be a good day after all as the letter slipped from her mother's fingers and hit the floor.

"Maybe he wrote to me?" Lisa asked brightly, stooping to pick the letter up. "Maybe he-"

It was too late. Her mother's eyes had already gone dark with grief and anger.

"You?" She snarled, swiping a hand towards her daughter, "He never knew you. He barely knew of you. The day I told him is the day he left and NEVER. CAME. BACK!" A lamp shattered behind them and Lisa suddenly was afraid. It had been months since the last episode. Months since her prayers had been answered, since her small sacrifice had been accepted by the earth.

She Pushed out gently and her mother's eyes clouded and her mask of rage slackened. Lisa took a deep breath, feeling the trembling starting in her stomach that always came from using her divine gifts.

"I think you're tired, mum." She told her, "I think you want to go back to your room and have a lie down."

"I'm sorry, I think I'm tired, Lisa," Her mother told her in a soft, detached voice, "I'm going to go for a bit of lie down." She turned and shuffled back to her room, not bothering to close the door behind her. When Lisa heard the mattress springs squeak, she let out a breath and looked at the letter in her hand. Quietly, she went to the kitchen and took out a knife. Opened the letter carefully and read.


	2. In Which Lisa Turpin Reads a Letter

A witch must learn to calm her mind.

After all, if you could not understand, and thus control, your own mind, how could you hope to understand, and thus control, the world around you? Much less the unseen powers that surround you? Or so Marie always asked her when Lisa complained of the visualization techniques and sitting.

It was lucky then that Lisa had so many different techniques at her fingertips when her heart began to race and her palms turned sweaty as she stared down at the letter.

 _Dear Ms. Turpin,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted..._

First, she put the letter down and poured herself a glass of water. That hadn't helped. Second, she padded back to her room, shut the door, and sat down on her bed. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, counting her breaths. That hadn't helped either, so she moved on to visualizations. She grounded her energy, connecting the life force in her belly with the living energy deep in the earth. She visualized her aura, swirling and chaotic, and imagined it turning soft and serene. When that didn't help, she gave up on seated meditation.

Though it was too early for her usual exercises, Lisa began her usual set of stretches. Reaching her hands up to the sky, touching her toes, twisting- then she on a record of her favorite piece of dancing music and danced until she was quite out of breath.

There, now she could think clearly again.

She grabbed her journal off her nightstand and went back to the letter on the table. It was still there- looking like a piece of a fairy tale sitting on her battered kitchen table. Lisa sat down and read it again, then she opened her notebook.

A joke, she wrote, some mean trick to make her and her mum excited.

But it was a pretty expensive joke, her mind whispered. The paper was nice. The ink looked rich- not like the stuff her mum bought at the stationary store. And who would name a magical school Hogwarts. She would call it something like the Eldritch Academy or the School of Earth's Mysteries. Or something high and regal sounding.

Not Hogwarts.

Fifteen minutes later, she had several pages of crossed out ideas and theories about the letter but only one option that might bear fruit: ask her mother. Lisa bit the edge of her nail and looked to her mothers doorway. There hadn't been a peep from her mum since she had gone to lay down. It would be tricky, she didn't want to ask anything that might bring on another episode, but she had to know what this letter was. If mum had ever heard of a magical school called Hogwarts…

Another fifteen minutes later and Lisa had a pot of tea prepared on a tray with some yarrow from the garden in a little vase. She crept into her mum's room and laid the tray down carefully on the pile of books next to the bed.

"Mum?" She asked quietly- she had left the letter on the table. "Are you awake?"

Celestia's eyes fluttered open and she stretched with a groan.

"Lisa?" her voice was still soft, but not detached like it was before, "Did I fall asleep again? Come here, love."

Lisa gratefully crawled onto the bed and curled up next to her mum. Celestia brushed her mouse brown hair away from her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry I'm so tired, my little owl. I haven't been a very good mother to you, have I?"

A small surge of guilt erupted in Lisa's stomach, but she squashed it fiercely. Shaking her head, she buried her face into her mum's shoulder. "It's fine. You're fine. A witch is supposed to be independent and strong, right? This is just training." She tried to make her voice bright.

"I just wish," her mother's voice turned whistful as she began to stroke Lisa's hair, "I just wish he hadn't left. If he hadn't left…" her voice trailed off, but Lisa could fill in the answers for herself. If her father hadn't left, hadn't deserted his pregnant lover, hadn't disappeared, where could they be living now? His family was apparently well off. Wealthy. Or so he had told Celestia in the days of their courtship.

"Tell me about him." This was usually a safe tactic. Her mother would reminisce- retell stories that had faded into personal legend about the beautiful man with the beautiful smile who could do such wondrous things with only a word. Could conjure whole worlds out of nothing.

"Well, I was very young." Her mother began, as she always did, "It was summer, as I recall, a beautiful summer like you have never seen since. I had just become initiated as a witch into our coven and we were celebrating out in the forests. Living in our caravans, free as songs and laugher. Every night was a bonfire where we would share stories and lore of our ancestors."

"Then one night, he appeared, walking out of the woods like Merlin himself," Lisa supplied, knowing well the tract of the story. Her mother laughed and nuzzled the top of her head.

"Exactly. I am still not convinced he wasn't Merlin or some spirit of the woods. There were nights when you could almost see them running through the trees."

"But he came, and sat down next to you," Lisa prompted, eager to keep the story on tract, "and said you were the prettiest Muggle he'd ever seen."

"That's right!" Celestia replied, warmth creeping back into her voice, "And he was so eager to learn what we were doing. When I told him we were preforming high magic, he began to laugh- as long and loud as I ever heard him. He wanted to know everything. The ritual's, the spells, the calling forth of the elements-"

"Because he said he was a wizard too." Lisa interrupted. Her mother nodded, cheek against her hair.

"Yes. He was a wizard, but he was interested to learn about us. And so we showed him, we welcomed him into our circle, we taught him the spells, and the runes. Welcomed him with open arms. And he stayed with us for months, until the leaves began to turn. Then-"

"Did he ever say where he learned to be a wizard?" Lisa interrupted a third time. She didn't want the story to turn dark, as it did at this point. In eleven years, and she never once stopped to ask where he had learned all the tricks he was supposed to know. Her mother hesitated, thinking.

"No, he never- he said his family had always been wizards right back to the time of Merlin, that magic flowed in his veins."

"Did he mention a place called Hogwarts?"

At the word, her mother stilled and Lisa feared she had done it again- pushed her mother back into the dark place, just as the letter had. When her mother sat up suddenly, holding her head in her hands, Lisa bit her lip and sat up slowly, her gift pooling in her stomach incase her mother lashed out.

"Mum, I brought tea-" Her offer of distraction was cut off with a harsh gesture and a curt 'I'm thinking.' Finally, Celestia rose and crossed over to the bookshelf overflowing with books. She was muttering under her breath and running her fingers over the spines. Finally, she paused and pulled a cheap journal from the shelf. Glanced through it. Discarded it on the floor. Pulled another and another until her cry of delight broke the gathering tension.

"Here we are. I knew I had heard that word before, I just didn't remember when!" Suddenly delighted, Celestia climbed onto the bed like a child and pulled Lisa into her lap. "I tried to write everything about that summer down. So I wouldn't forget. And I wrote some of what your father said see?" She jabbed a finger down onto the page. Lisa squinted but could barely make out the chicken scratch that was her mothers, and her own, handwriting.

"Um. Not really."

"Look. August 15th." She cleared her throat and began to read, "Today Raven, that's what he wanted to be called. We had all chosen animal or plant names back then. Today Raven took me aside to show me some more of his magic. He promised he would teach me to do the same, if I watched very carefully. He waved his wand and said something very quietly but then I was floating. Not just the feeling of it, but I was floating off the ground as though I had suddenly grown wings and could fly. I felt light and happy and couldn't stop laughing. I asked him where he had learned such a thing- not one grimoire or master wizard had ever been able to do half the things he could. He laughed and said a place called Hogwarts."

Lisa felt her stomach drop down to around her knees and then leap up to her throat.

It was real.

The letter was real.

There was a place called Hogwarts. Where her father learned magic. Where she could learn magic. Where there were other children, maybe her age, who she could learn magic with!

"Mum." Lisa interrupted whatever reverie Celestia had disappeared into. "I have a letter from Hogwarts. I've been accepted into the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Lisa expected any different reaction, but the one she got. Her mother burst into noisy tears.


	3. In Which Lisa Turpin Speaks to an Owl

It didn't take Celestia long to calm herself. Like a summer storm, her emotions were intense but fleeting- unlike Lisa who could stay stubbornly irritate or depressed for days. Soon enough, her mother was seated at the Kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea and perusing the letter with an increasingly worried look.

" 'We await your owl by no later than the 31 July.' " She read, "But we don't have an owl. Where would we get an owl? They are such magnificent creatures- like the one we saw this morning. It would be a shame to relegate them to simple mail carriers. I've never heard of them being used as messengers- except as totems of the dark mysteries that they themselves embody-"

Lisa let her mother's chatter wash over her as she looked over the second half of the letter, heel kicking idly into the rung of the chair. Of course, her acceptance of the letter wasn't even questioned. If there was a magical school, the same magical school her father went to, she was going.

"Oh Lisa, oh look!" Her mother had risen and returned to the back window. "Oh love, the owl from this morning. It is still there!" Lisa glanced up sharply and considered.

"Maybe we give the message to him?"

"Oh how thoughtful." Celestia breathed. "To have such commands over the animals of the night. I wonder if the owl is some powerful wizard's familiar. Sent to collect promising witches all across the world. Oh, think Lisa. You could be learning mysteries untold for thousands of years. You could be taught by the final, existing line of Druids left in England!"

She turned suddenly, hands clasped, and eyes shining with bright hope, "You'll tell me everything you learn, won't you my love?"

"Of course." Lisa blinked at her mother in surprise. They had always shared every bit of knowledge they came across. "I'll write you every day!"

Celestia sniffed wetly and then straightened her shoulders. She combed some of the tangles out of her long hair with her fingers and readjusted her robes. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and Lisa could see the magically powerful witch emerge once more.

Her mother held her hand out to Lisa and smiled gently, "Let us go speak to the owl, my love."

Hand in hand, mother and daughter went out to the back yard, stepping carefully among the various pots and herbs that cluttered there back porch. The owl watched them closely as they approached- apparently unconcerned with sun already risen high in the heavens or the appearance of the two women. Celestia raised her hands in benediction.

 _Oh wise one_

 _Oh death by night_

 _On wings silent and still_

 _With talons sharp and sure_

 _Oh messenger from afar_

 _We beseech you_

 _Hear our message_

 _Bear it fast and sure_

 _To the one who sent you_

 _Hear our message_

 _Oh wise one_

Celestia at this point nudged Lisa forward and Lisa realized, with swelling pride, that her mother trusted her enough to relate the message. She stepped forward and marveled at how the Owl's eyes focused on her, as though he was really listening to what she would say.

Lisa cleared her throat and lifted her arms. Then, moved by an inner power, fell to one knee.

 _Oh thee_

 _Of tawny feather and golden eye_

 _Hear my response_

 _Take it back to the school of magic_

 _And let it be known that I_

 _Lisa Athena Inara Daylily Turpin_

 _Do most humbly accept_

 _This offer of magic_

She looked up at the owl, heart hammering at her chest from the magnitude of what she is doing. Stately, solemnly, the owl stretched out a leg to her. Lisa rose from her crouch and, unsure if she was doing the right thing, hesitantly reached out to touch the talon. It was cool and somewhat scaley.

"Oh hey! Mum. There is a leather tie around its leg."

Celestia came forward, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand to investigate. "Is it trash? Did the poor creature pick up some environmental pollutant?"

"I don't think so." Lisa peered a little closer, "It looks pretty deliberately tied."

"Well, I read, once, that hawks sometimes have jesses, I think that's what they are called, to help their handlers hold onto them when they are perched-"

"Maybe you tie a letter to its leg." Lisa wasn't sure where the burst of inspiration came from, but as soon as the words left her mouth, the owl nodded its head gravely towards her. Oh, thank the Goddess- her first bit of magical intuition!

"Oh!" Celestia's mouth formed a small o, "Oh Lisa, that is brilliant darling. Oh. Lets use that special stationary, from when Stella went to Italy? And we have the ink from last Solstice that we made from the fire pit. Oh! And we can use your dragon wax seal. Oh Lisa, how much fun!" Celestia squealed like a little girl as she ran back to the house to collect the supplies. Lisa looked up at the owl.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

The owl ruffled it's feathers and settled back down on the branch.

It didn't take long for them to finish the letter. Lisa had written out, in her best and most elegant long hand, her acceptance to the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She avoided using the term Hogwarts because the name still sounded dumb.

After both she and her mother had prayed over the message, imbuing it with as much focused energy as they could, she returned to the owl, letter in tow. The owl seemed relieved to see the envelope and stuck it's leg out imperiously. Lisa hesitated and then, after much folding of the crisp letter and breaking the gold wax seal accidentally, attached it to the owl's leg. The owl took off without another by your leave, before Lisa could even pray for its safe travel.

"How magical," Celestia breathed as she watched the owl disappear down the street. "Your first real taste of magic. Oh Lisa. How blessed you are. A magical school. Secret training. Contacted by an owl. It's like you are in a book!"

"It seems a little impractical." Lisa frowned after where the owl disappeared. "Sending a letter with no instructions on how to reply. What if another child didn't know how to spot owls or didn't see the leather ties around it's ankle?"

Celestia paused in her beheading of the chrysanthemums to seriously consider the question.

"Maybe," she started hesitantly, but then understanding bloomed. "Maybe it was a test. Your first test of a magical education. The start of your quest. If you can't understand how to reply, then you aren't worthy of receiving the education."

This made sense to Lisa and she nodded happily as they went back inside to finish their tea.


	4. In Which Lisa Turpin Considers a List

A/N: Short today in order to give more regular updates. Thank you again for everyone who has read and commented.

"What is it, Lisa?"

It didn't take Celestia long to notice that Lisa was frowning over the secondary paper. Her mother's bursts of insight could only be described as magical sometimes. Still, it was an issue that Lisa needed to deal with and couldn't figure out on her own. She sighed and held out the supply sheet to her mother.

"Have you even heard of any of these books? 'A Standard Book of Spells' or 'A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration?'" Lisa asked desperately. Celestia took the list and considered it thoughtfully, finger on her chin. Some of them, she was sure they had in their library or somewhere in their coven's library. Mum herself had an entire shelf dedicated to books on magical theories from the Druids to the Ancient Egyptians. Not to mention all the history books- both magical and otherwise which cluttered their home.

"I haven't heard of them." She said thoughtfully, "But I'll make some calls this afternoon and see if maybe John or Howard have. If not, we'll run into London and go on a book hunt." She sounded delighted at the idea and Lisa smiled weakly.

"As for the other things, you have your ceremonial robe, but we can make you some work robes easily enough. I still have all those black sheets from the charity auction last year." Celestia pulled a scrap of paper towards her and began writing down notes to herself as she talked out loud, "I'm sure we'll find a pointed hat somewhere, though I am surprised to see that as a uniform considering the historical sources of the pointed hat myth-"

"And I can bring my gardening gloves," Lisa cut in hurriedly before her mother could go on another rambling lecture. "They aren't dragon hide but they are sturdy."

"Excellent idea, love!" Her mother beamed at her, "And we can bless them to be as sturdy as any hide of a dragon. That way no magical creatures will be hurt!"

"We can make the cloak as well," Lisa continued down the list, skipping over the books entirely for the moment, "and I already have my wand!"

"That you do my love," Her mother said proudly, stroking her hair, "And a beautiful one it is. Hand carved too. I suppose we can let you take the cauldron as you cup, but there's not mention of either blade or coin?" She glanced over the list again.

"Maybe those come at later years?" Lisa suggested. "First I learn to be proficient with my wand, then with my cup, then with my blade, then with the coin?"

Celestia considered the idea with a small frown. "It is different," she confessed, "Than how I would want you to be taught. Each of the elements are so bound with each other that to learn one in seclusion would seem like folly.

"But," She continued with a small smile, "What do I know. You'll be learning powerful magics at this school and we must be open to different traditions."

Lisa nodded, before continuing down the list. "The glass phials we can get from the chemist's probably. I'll say it's a school project. The telescope might be a bit trickier, but shouldn't be hard. And the scales?" She looked at her mum who was noting down ideas on her scrap of paper.

"We'll go to some of the charity shops. I'm sure we will find a scale. Especially since you are so blessed by the Mother herself to study her ways. She will take care of everything." Celestia turned to her with a happy smile, "We must have faith in the wanderings of fate."

Lisa nodded and committed the lesson to memory.


	5. In Which Lisa Turpin Searches for Books

"Oh, yes. Oh thank you. I can't tell you what a relief this is. You are a knight- no you really are. You have no idea."

Celestia slammed down the phone triumphantly and turned to Lisa with a great smile on her face. Lisa raised her eyebrows in interest- her mouth too full of pins from her robes to ask what that was about. She didn't have to wait long.

"That, my love, was your new telescope. Do you remember how Howard had had that astronomer friend from back at his days of university? And how he said he would get in touch with him? Well he did, and the nice man is going to sell us one of his old telescopes at a discount because of Howard!" Celestia clapped her hands delightedly and picked up the list that was next to the phone.

"So that is the telescope taken care of, the glass phials, the brass scales- which I have to say was a Goddess send- seeing them in the Charity shop like that. I'm not sure if they are strictly brass, but they will work wonderfully. Now all we need-" Her voice faltered slightly at the last and most important items. The books.

Lisa sighed and set down the robe she was working on. It was her third robe, cut in the same loose fashion as all the ceremonial robes in their tradition and her fingers were pricked raw from hand stitching the seams. But if these were to be her robes, her sacred, magical robes, she had to do everything by hand. She had even embroidered her name into the lining of each one.

"We'll hear back from Mr. Caverns soon," She reassured her mum. "You gave him the list of books and he said he would look for all of them- reach out to some of the other used book sellers. It will all work out."

"You are so brave." Celestia whispered, "So calm and so brave and so trusting in the Goddess. How will I ever survive without my Lisa?"

Lisa, who had wondered that late at night as well, smiled at her, "You'll do fine. You're a high priestess, remember? You have your work and your-"

The phone rang, cutting her off. Lisa leapt to her feet.

"Maybe that is about the books!"

Celestia rushed to the phone and gave Lisa a triumphant look when she answered it.

"Yes, Mr. Caverns? Oh thank you so much for calling us back. You have no idea how we were waiting. In fact we were just talking about you- oh yes? Yes. Oh I see." Her mother bent over the paper on the desk and began scribbling down what she heard, "That was the only one? A joke book- well, I don't know about that, but- oh yes. Oh. Oh that is rather- well. Thank you. Yes. I'll let you know. Three days you say to deliver it? We'll let you know if we are interested. Yes. By tomorrow at the latest. Yes. Thank you again so much for looking. We do appreciate it." Her voice, which had started out so joyful, had grown increasingly dejected as the phone call continued until it finally ended with a telltale quaver.

Lisa, who had approached slowly through the course of the conversation, glanced down at the last figure her mum had written down. Her eyes widened, then shut.

"Well," Celestia hung up the phone and wiped discretely at her eyes, "Well, it doesn't sound like Mr. Caverns had much luck. He could only find one of the titles, and then that was considered an elaborate prank book- well, we know better, but the book sellers consider it a bit of an anomaly, so its-"

"Mum, I was thinking," Lisa interrupted gently, laying her hand over her mothers, "If they are asking me to bring books, they probably have a library. It's probably massive. I bet they have ten copies of all these books- I'll just nip in there as soon as I get to the school, and check out all the books. That way, I'll get all the notes from all the other kids who scribbled in the margins and meet the librarian, and I'll take really good notes in class- and then publish my own, better book, by the time I graduate. You'll be able to read it all!"

Celestia gave one sob and then threw her arms around Lisa, crying into her hair. "You are the best, loveliest, most wonderful daughter I could ever ask for. You are going to be the brightest, most shining witch the world has ever seen. And-" She straightened and looked about their home with new interest.

"And just because we don't have those books, doesn't mean you are going to school empty handed. We'll make sure you have all the other books on plants, and magical theory, and animals, and auras that you could ever hope to have!"

Lisa smiled up at her mum and agreed that sounded like a good plan.


	6. In Which Lisa Turpin Finds a Threshold

This morning, Lisa realized sadly, was the last morning that she would greet the sun with her mother. Even though they were using this time as a silent meditation for the day, she sneaked a glance towards her mother only to find Celestia staring back at her sadly. They shared a small smile. No words needed to be spoken.

"Lisa," her mother's voice was quiet from her doorway. Lisa looked up from where she was lacing up her boots- almost new, a parting gift from the coven. Celestia stood with her hands behind her back and eager, almost nervous look in her eye. "I have something for you."

Lisa opened her mouth to protest- her mum had already done so much, buy the supplies, help her sew her robes, give her dozens of herbs and roots for protection. But Celestia stepped forward quickly and held out a small knife with a black handle. Lisa gaped.

"Your Athame." She whispered, reaching out to trace her fingers over the bright metal. Celestia nodded, eyes bright with tears.

"Yes. I want you to- well, you aren't old enough to choose your own, and even though the school list doesn't require it, I want you to, to have it. So you don't forget me. After all in all the stories, the hero is given something that was once their parents."

"Mum," She wrapped her arms around Celestia, "It's perfect. Thank you. I-" She stepped away and crossed in front of the mirror. She was wearing her boots from the coven, her hand sewn robes, a belt of corded white, and her hair down around her shoulders. She thrust the knife into her belt, pulled the cord that held her coin over her head, and raised her wand.

"There." She smiled at her mother in the mirror, "Now I look ready."

London was smelly and loud. Kings Cross station was, unbelievably, even worse. Loud speakers blared over the impatient and irritated crowds who jostled past each other looking for the right station, the right sandwich, the right wife or father or child who had wandered off. Some, unbelievably, slept amidst the bustle.

Lisa and her mother waded through the crowds of people, counting off platforms as they went.

"7….8….9….. and that's 10." The two witches stopped and stared at the space between platform 9 and 10. It looked just like any other set of walls. There were no mysterious doorways. No arcane runes carved into the wall. No mysterious old man or woman asking for your fortune to be told. Just in case Lisa really was going into a fairy tale, Celestia had brought along a bottle of change and they were both very generous to any beggars on the street as well as keeping their eyes peeled for any animal, man or thing that needed their help.

Lisa looked up at her mother and Celestia accurately read the disappointment in her eyes. Of all the stories she had read to her daughter growing up, none of them had involved crowded train stations or looking for platforms that didn't exist without so much as a map. She put her hands on either side of Lisa's shoulders and bent down to look her in the eyes.

"Lisa, listen to me, because this may be the most important lesson I have ever taught: magic is found in the ordinary things of life. We do spells in the kitchen, because there is magic in changing raw vegetables into stew or seeing a loaf of bread rise. We look for the magic in what others take for granted- the cycles of the moon, the changes of the season, the power hidden in ourselves. Magic doesn't need elaborate alters, or costumes, or dragons- it is itself, and powerful in that.

"You'll be a wonderful witch, my love, even more so when you don't let your expectations cloud your judgment. For instance," Her voice turned bright again, "did you know that King's Cross is apparently built on the last battlefield of Boudica? And that her ghost is said to haunt the halls at night? That is pretty magical, isn't it?"

When Lisa nodded and stood straighter, Celestia ran a fond hand over her hair. "Now, let's see that letter again. Maybe something new will be revealed since we are here."

Not long after they had prayed to the mysterious messenger owl, another letter had been found in the mail acknowledging Lisa's enrollment in the Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry. It also told them to arrive no later than 10 at platform 9 ¾ in order not to miss the train. Students were once again reminded they could only bring a cat OR an owl OR a toad and that first years were not allowed their own brooms.

The letter looked the same as it always did from the first 100 times they read it.

"Maybe when it is closer to 10?" Celestia asked, glancing at the clock. It was 9:15 now, they had arrived early since the only bus into London left at 7. Lisa shook her head.

"It says no later than 10. The door should be here. Maybe we aren't looking close enough? Maybe there is a secret message or something on the wall?" Celestia agreed this was a sound idea and they split up: Lisa taking platform 10 and working her way down, and Celestia working her way up from 9.

It was Lisa, unsurprisingly, who found the opening. Not through any arcane puzzle or scratches on the wall or sudden burst of magical intuition, but because her hand literally passed right through a section of brick. Lisa stepped back in alarm, then remembered how illusions were often in place to confuse the non-initiated. Marking the area of disguised bricks, she returned to her mother who was peering fiercely at a wad of gum on the floor.

"Mum! I found it!"

"Of course you did!" Celestia turned to her with a radiant smile, "Your third test. And you passed! You have proven yourself to be worthy of Hogwarts."

Lisa, too excited to care about tests and what not, grabbed her mum's hand and pulled her towards the door.

"Come on. Let's see what is on the-"

Her mother planted her feet and shook her head. Lisa stopped pulling forward but didn't let go of her hand, she could tell by her mother's expression that she had something to say.

"Lisa, my darling Lisa, I cannot pass this threshold with you." Celestia blinked back tears and, suddenly, Lisa felt her own throat growing tight. She grasped her mother's fingers more tightly in her own.

"But-"

"No," Celestia shook her head, "You are entering the first stage of your journey and it must be undertaken alone. It will be a test of your daring, your will, your wisdom, and your compassion. And I cannot travel with you."

But- Lisa wanted to protest, but deep in her heart she knew it was true. She had been singled out by the mysterious owl with the mysterious letter and, like all great heroines of her books, she needed to travel on this path alone.

Part of her bitterly didn't want to though. Wanted to cry out that she was eleven, too young, and couldn't she stay with her mum for a bit longer? But a deeper part, the part she had begun to learn to identify with her divine self, craved the adventure and training before her.

"Alright," She nodded- vision not unshaky with tears. "Mum- I-I love you."

"And I love you, Lisa," Celestia folded her into her arms for one, last long hug.

 _May the road rise to meet you_

 _May the wind be always at your back_

 _May the sun shine warm on your face_

 _And until we meet again_

 _May Goddess hold you in the palm of her hand_

With one last, tight hug, Lisa turned and crossed the threshold, eager to begin her journey.

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers. Re: Guest- your review has prompted about 6k worth of new story development addressing just those questions. You won't see them for a bit, but I am deeply grateful for you interest! As always, reviews prompt me to write faster, questions prompt me to think deeper, and encouragement makes me smile! Hope you all have a wonderful day.


	7. In Which Lisa Turpin is Disapointed

She opened her eyes to a platform bustling with life.

Families bid each other cheerful or excited goodbyes. Friends reunited with loud shouts and happy laughter. Fathers struggled with luggage. Mothers straightened hair and polished noses. Older siblings advised their younger to not embarrasses them this year. Standing over all of it was a bright, red steam engine the likes that would be better suited for the turn of the past century than today.

It was, Lisa decided after a moment, disappointing.

Severely disappointing.

An older boy barged through the barrier at full speed and then barked at her when he almost hit her with his cart. "Hey! Move out of the way!"

It was only the instinctual obedience to move out of traffic that kept her from turning on her heel and racing back to her mother babbling how this was a mistake. This wasn't magic. It was some stupid illusion. She didn't want to go.

But, who knew if the barrier would even open back to where she left her mother. What if, she realized with growing horror, time moved differently here and if she stepped back now, she would find herself fifty years in the future. She should have hugged her mother harder. Kissed her one more time. Told her how much Celestia meant to her-

"Are you lost?"

Lisa looked up to see a pleasant faced older girl with dark brown hair peering down at her through her glasses. Lisa wasn't sure how to answer. She knew exactly where she was, so she wasn't lost, but this wasn't where she was expecting to be.

"First year?" The girl continued kindly, "First time seeing the Hogwarts Express?" To both of those Lisa could nod mutely. The older girl smiled.

"My name is Penelope Clearwater. I'm a Prefect, even though term hasn't started," She pointed to the silver badge pinned to her black cloak. "Though there is no time like the present. Let's get you settled, hmm?"

"Lisa." Lisa supplied following after the girl with her trunk, "Lisa Turpin."

"Well, Lisa. This is the Hogwarts Express. It-"

"Why is it a train?" Lisa interrupted finding her voice suddenly. Penelope peered down at her in bemusement.

"Sorry?"

"It's very…" She wasn't sure what word to use- normal, boring, disappointing, unmagical?

"Muggle?" Penelope supplied with a laugh. Lisa had no idea what that word meant but it sounded right. "I know. Hogwarts switched to platform 9 ¾ in 1855 after the increasing enrollment of muggleborns and the long standing hostility between Hogwarts and the centaurs of the Forbidden forest. Before that point, families would just apparate to the edge of the wards."

Lisa understood about every other word of that explanation, "Apparate?"

"Or portkey," Penelope amended in a way that answered absolutely none of Lisa's question. "But there were too many issues with splinching of muggleborn families so the School board voted to move it to London. Here we are now."

Penelope had found an empty compartment. "Put your trunk on the rack overhead. We'll be departing in a half hour. The snack trolly comes by twice and before we reach Hogwarts, you'll need to change- well, I guess you're a little eager aren't you? Where did you buy your robes?"

"I made them." Lisa said- feeling very much out of her depth in this new world. Splinching. Muggleborn. Apparition. Penelope's eyebrows rose.

"Oh, you are handy, aren't you? You'll have to teach me the spell once we get a moment." Penelope smiled as Lisa looked at her in confusion. Spell? You threaded a needle and went at it. "Anyways, I'll be in the Prefect's compartment- that's the first one in the train, so if you need anything look for someone with a silver badge."

"Ok." Then, because Penelope had at least been trying to be helpful. "Thank you."

Penelope gave her a quick goodbye and headed down the train. Lisa glanced around the compartment. It look… decidedly unmagical. The seats were a little worn. The glass was a little dingy. Lisa sighed and hefted her trunk up to the rack above her, balancing on the edge of her seat to do so. She had reading material in her messenger bag, but couldn't bring herself to pull it out.

What had she been expecting?

She wasn't sure. Something out of a fairy tale, maybe. Horses. Or at least carriages. Maybe a magical boat that moved of its own volition. Magic carpet ride. Or that the school was built into the corners of kings cross. She was a little relieved that that last one wasn't the case. It would be better once she reached Hogwarts itself.

The platform grew busier as the hour ticked closer to ten. She missed her mother already, especially when all she could see were goodbye hugs, kisses, or pats on the head. Most people, she noticed were wearing black robes, though unlike any ceremonial robes she had seen before. Some were even wearing the pointed witches hat- though none had brooms. A few, she noticed, had their wands in hand, and she was glad her familiar wand was tucked in her waist band.

Students began to fill up the train, making the hallways as noisy as they platform had been. Several times the door to her carriage were thrown open with a bang only for the student to realized that this carriage was occupied and they didn't know who she was. Each time the door opened she jumped until she finally had enough and grabbed a book out of her bag to act as a shield.

It wasn't that she was scared of kids her age. Not exactly. It's just that she didn't know how to talk to them. Or interact with them. Or anything. Adults were so much easier. They wanted to listen while she talked to them about Astronomy or plant facts or the philosophical ideas of how to find out what you want. Kids just… laughed. Hiding behind a book was easier.

"This one's occupied too." Lisa didn't glance up as the door slammed open again. "Let's-"

"Everywhere else is getting filled up," A second voice whined and Lisa looked up to see three older students with yellow piping on their robes. "And I need to find somewhere to finish my transfiguration essay or McGonagall is going to turn me into a toad."

"Ugh. Fine." The first voice, attached to a rather pudgy boy, "It's only a first year. Mind if we join?" It took Lisa a moment to realize the boy was talking to her and a moment longer to remember if she should nod or shake her head to that question. No she did not mind, yes they could join. By that point the three of them were already crowding into the carriage, shoving their trunks on the racks, and making themselves comfortable. Lisa retreated into the corner and brought her book up a little more guardedly.

It turned out that the second voice, attached to a girl with long pigtails, really did have an essay to write. She sat next to Lisa and mostly scribbled on a long roll of paper with what looked like a quill. Lisa gave the essay a series of concerned looks over the top of her book- she wouldn't have to write with those, would she?

The other two, another girl who immediately began to knit, and the chubby boy who opened a book and immediately began to doze off, weren't interested in making conversation either. Lisa went back to her book, evesdropping wildly on the two girl's conversations. There wasn't much that she could understand or find interesting- discussing boys in their house (annoying, not like Gryffindor), how there summers went (boring), there plans for this year (sort of the same), and so forth.

A pale haired boy with blond hair stopped by looking for his friend. Then a girl stopped by and asked if they saw a toad. London and its suburbs were soon replaced by rolling fields and Lisa found herself growing more melancholy and hungry as the hours passed.

Luckily, just as her stomach began to growl, the door opened and the pink faced trolly lady smiled in.

"Anyone want a bite from the trolly?"

They all did. When Lisa finally reached the front of the line, she didn't recognize any of the sweets the woman was offering. Still, she was hungry enough to try anything- even the chocolate frogs.

"Could I have this and this and two of those please?" She said pointing at random to the sweets, pulling her wallet out of her bag.

"Of course dear, that will be three sickles and five knuts."

What? Lisa hesitate, her fist full of the change she had been saving since Christmas. The trolly lady took one look at her fist full of silver and laughed.

"Oh, we don't take muggle money." The lady smiled down at her, putting the snacks away, "Next time get it changed, dear." The fat boy, who had bought an arm load of snacks, sniggered. Lisa's cheeks flushed bright red and her spine straightened.

"Well, I don't want any of your nasty snacks anyway," She snapped out quite unthinkingly. The trolly ladies eyebrows rose high and she let out a small noise of disapproval. Lisa marched back to her seat, feeling the eyes of the three older children on her, shaking with humiliation. She sat down, snapped open her book hard enough to crack the spine and read with such intensity that it took her five minutes to realize she had read the same line over and over.

None of the students offered her a snack, even though she was sure that her stomach growled loud enough to be heard. If she could have left, she would have. But the idea of hauling down her trunk, wading past everyone's legs, struggling with the door then finding a new compartment- no. She would just stay here. When the trolly lady came back several hours later, she ignored her completely even when the fat boy went back for seconds.

Finally, when it was quite dark and Lisa had no idea how far north they had come, the train came to a halt. The other students had already pulled on their black robes and grabbed their trunks. The worried girl had finished her essay- handwriting turning sloppy and large as the hours passed. The knitting girl had finished her scarf in stripes of black and yellow. But they had left their trunks.

She hesitated. Maybe they came back to get them? But years of travel on public transit proved too much to overcome and she pulled her trunk down from the rack only to have it land sharply on her foot. Lisa bit back tears and took a deep breath. This was all a test of her strength and determination. She could manage-

"Hey- you don't need to take your trunk with you. Leave it for the house elves." A boy with brown hair and a silver badge snapped at her as he ushered the crowd out through the halls, "Hurry up. You'll miss your boat."

Hesitating, Lisa finally left her trunk in the middle of the carriage and hoped she would see it again. At least she still had her bag, wand, and mother's athame. That was, really, all she would need. With a sigh, she ducked under the prefects arm and joined the stream of students out of the train.

When she stepped into the night air her first thought was that it was cold. Her second thought was that it was dark. Her third though fizzled into nothingness as she looked up and beheld the starry expanse of the heavens. Her breath caught. The stars were never so bright in London. Look, there was the big dipper. There was Polaris.

"First yea's! Over here!" A booming voice echoed across the mass of students and she turned to see a giant of a man holding a lantern. A grin grew slowly across her face. This was more like it. Out in the wilds. Stars overhead. A giant with a lantern to lead them to their new home. She hurried over to where the mass of small, black shapes were standing.

"Oh there you are Harry! Good to see you," The man greeted someone in the crowd. "First yea's in the boats. There you are. Four to a boat. Don't fall in or the Giant Squid will get ya-"

They jostled and crowded as though there might not be enough boats for all the students. But, of course, there was. Lisa climbed into the rickety little row boat, another momentary flash of disappointment at its lack of size or grandeur, with three other students. They waited a moment until there was a waving lantern light from the train.

Then, without a word, they were off- gliding over the silk black lake without any oars of sails. Hope reared its head as they sped off. This was magic. Maybe, oh maybe, this wasn't a horrible mistake. Maybe she could really learn like old heroes did. Maybe-

They turned the corner of the lake and the castle of Hogwarts rose into view. All around her, small voices gasped in astonishment.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said the boy next to her. He had introduced himself as Zacharias Smith, of the line of Smith's leading all the way back to Hufflepuff herself and where were all they going to be sorted?

"No." Lisa answered honestly. Zacharias turned to her with a sniff.

"Are you Muggle? My ancestor helped found this school you know,"

"Whatever." Lisa hunkered down over her knees, eyeing the castle warily. Now that they were in the middle of the lake, a harsh wind was cutting through the thin cotton of her robe like it was tissue. The castle was, well, it was a bit like the train if she was going to be honest. If she had gone in properly without expectations, it might have been exciting: a secret train platform, a castle full of turrets and buttresses, and windows, robes and houses and prefects.

But… it all seemed a little silly.

She had camped out with her mother one winter solstice in a castle that a friend of the coven's had rented. It was cold and drafty. The stone sucking up heat and leeching out damp. The windows were small and the rooms dim. She had caught a cold that hadn't gone away for three weeks from sleeping in the castle and wasn't keen to spend the next who knew how many years stuck in one.

Again though, what was she expecting? A cave maybe- leading deep into the earth. Or a grove surrounded by huts where wise men and women would teach them how to contact spirit guides and guardians of the directions. Somewhere deep in the forest where they would be sent out to gather herbs and identify plants. Somewhere small, cozy, and comfortable. Not an impossible castle in the middle of nowhere.

They all ducked their heads to pass under a drape of ivy and then were asked to disembark. Trailing after the enormous man like a heard of ducklings, they paused at the entrance of the great castle. A stern faced woman was there to greet them and led them inside into a small room. They crowded together, closer than Lisa would have liked when the girl in front of her turned her head too fast and smacked her in the face with her pony tail.

Students were whispering among themselves about the sorting- what it could be. Would it be a test? Wrestle a troll? Preform magic?

The answer, when revealed, shocked Lisa once again.

It was a hat.

They were going to be sorted by a ratty old hat.

Granted, she amended after a moment, a ratty old hat that could sing- and how the heck could it do that exactly? Lisa's willingness to suspend disbelief was beginning to waver. Were there talking items in books? She couldn't remember.

Finally, the students were being called up by last name. She watched as various tables cheered when a student joined them. Green was Slytherin, they were the most reserved even when Malfoy, Draco went to join them excitedly. Blue were Ravenclaws, yellow was Hufflepuff and of course that idiot Smith was sent there almost as soon as the hat grazed his head. She glared after him. Red, then was Gryffindor, and they cheered the loudest and most rowdily, especially when some skinny kid named Harry Potter was sent their way. Maybe he had a lot of siblings in that house.

Then the stern professor called her name and the butterflies began in earnest.

A/N: Do you still like Lisa after this chapter? I do. It's so much fun to make life hard for your characters, you know?

So, because I suspect there are and will be questions and because I cannot think of a decent scene to explain this, let me explain here:

Lisa is a half-blood. Her father is a wizard, identity unknown. Her mother is a muggle, though Lisa will deny it furiously throughout this story. I am assuming that the owling service sending out Hogwarts letters doesn't know the parental living situation of each of its students. Instead they see that Lisa is magical, that she has one magical parent, and sends the standard letter, which looking back now is very sparse.

Muggleborns would, I also assume, get a proper orientation conversation, organized trips to Diagon Alley and literature on what to expect from the wizarding world. Lisa, because of her half blood status, had none of those. Harry only seems to have had Hagrid's help because he never sent a reply. Lisa and Celestia managed to figure out how to reply, on fancy parchment no less, so whoever received the letters just assumed Lisa knew how to handle everything else.

She is going into this world far, far blinder than Hermione but, in many ways, more able to adapt her narrative to the wizarding world's mores. Which makes it fun!

Hope this helps clear up any confusion. As always, I love the hits, favs, and alerts the fic is getting. If you have any ideas, suggestions, or encouragement- those definitely inspire me to write more!


	8. In Which Lisa Turpin Meets Her House

"Turpin, Lisa."

Lisa marched up to the small stool. She was mostly confident this test wouldn't kill her, but unsure of how a magical piece of felt determined what color you belonged to. The elements were pretty obvious: red was fire, yellow was air, blue was water, and green was the earth. Why exactly the house with the color of air had a very earthy animal or why the raven of Ravenclaw had water's color was beyond her. She had always been drawn more to the earthy magics of herbs and stones and house spirits, but it would be cool to contact the spirits of the upper realms-

 _'My, you do think a lot. Plenty of intelligence, yes.'_

Lisa froze.

Who said that?

She was well acquainted with her own internal monologue, even aware of the different tones it could take. But this voice was nothing like she had heard before. The voice felt… heavy.

 _'Plenty of courage too. Though few ties of loyalty outside immediate family.'_

Ok. Keep calm. Her mother had spoken what happened during a possession. The most important thing was to keep calm. To cede no power over to the parasite spirit.

 _'No ambitions outside of knowledge. Well, it is quite clear that you'll excel in'_

Lisa prepped the beginnings of a banishing spell as she reached for her knife.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The hat was swept off her head. The table in blue exploded into cheers and applause. Lisa blinked in the sudden light.

Hello? She thought anxiously. But there was no reply. Apparently, the possession was momentary.

Well, she thought, as she rose unsteadily to her feet, it could be worse. She could be in the same house as those awful people she shared her compartment with. And, look, there was the prefect from earlier. Penelope something who was waving to her gently.

She set herself down next to a boy with golden curls and a rather weak chin and a plump dark haired girl who was staring impassively at the sorting. There weren't many first years left and the tables were growing restless.

"Hello, my name is Anthony. Anthony Goldstien." The boy at her right introduced himself. "Half-blood. Both parents."

Lisa ignored him staring up the table until she caught the eye of an upper classman. "Hey-" The boy looked at her with sort of a dazed expression. "Are we water or air?"

"What are you talking about?" Lisa turned to look at the girl who was seated across from her. She had frizzy hair that might have been consider blond by a very kind person and glasses with dark frames. Lisa felt an immense dislike for her.

"Water. Or. Air." She enunciated more clearly. "Which are we?"

"We're Ravenclaw." The girl said as though speaking to a stupid three year old. Lisa's dislike ratcheted up another level. "What are you a muggle?"

Muggle was the stupid red train engine. Muggle was not being able to buy snacks from the trolly. Muggle was being sniggered at by fat boys when she was hungry, lonely, and tired. She was absolutely not a muggle.

"No." Lisa flipped her hair behind her shoulder and fixed the dislikable girl with an icy look. "I realize we are in Ravenclaw. But the familiar of Ravenclaw appears to be a raven- which is of the house of air. But the color is blue which is the color of water." She explained slowly to the girl who looked at her with annoyance. "So which are we? Air or water?"

"It's an eagle actually." The upper class man to whom she had originally addressed the question said. "The mascot. It doesn't make much sense."

"Yes, it does, Charles," the girl sitting next to him snapped. She had red hair that was pulled back into a severe bun and sat at the edge of her seat like she was about to run out of the room at any moment, "We've been over this. It is an Eagle with the claws of a raven- clearly a mythical beast unknown before-"

"Shhhh!" Someone from further up the table hissed and the two fell quiet.

Zabini, Blaise was sorted into Slytherin and as soon as he sat, the oldest man at the head table stood up. He, Lisa thought approvingly, looked the part of a headmaster. Long robes. Long beard. Like you took him out of a fantasy novel. No doubt he was very-

"Nitwit, blubbler, oddement, tweak!" She hissed furiously to herself. The boy, Anthony, gave her an odd look and edged over slightly. It was only, through sheer force of will that she didn't bury her face in her hands and cry. Or laugh. This was too much. A stupid train to a stupid castle with a stupid house system with a stupid, stupid, stupid headmaster.

She remained stubbornly silent during the singing of the School song. Though that garnered some looks, the girl next to her was equally silent and so they shared a space of disapproval in the midst of the caterwauling.

Finally, the professor waved his hands and food appeared before them, steaming and perfectly prepared. Lisa's mouth watered. Her stomach rumbled. She was so hungry her head felt light. But still she hesitated. What if this was like poor Persephone in the underworld. Or the stories of the fairy hills where if you eat or drink anything you have to stay with them forever. Lisa didn't want to stay here forever!

Her hunger won out though and she dished herself a heaping plate of mashed potatoes, chicken, beef, and Brussels sprouts. All around her conversation was happening. She learned that the tall, sorrow faced girl's name was Isobel, but preferred to be called Morag and she was a pureblood. That the slim, dark haired boy, Terry Boot, was also a half-blood and he and Anthony struck up an immediate friendship. The girl next to her, Su Li, was apparently of finest stock in China but her family had been registered as half-blood when they moved to England since the British Ministry didn't trust the Chinese record keeping. Padma explained that her father had had to fight very hard to ensure the Patil name didn't end up the same way, when he was appointed an Ambassador to magical England.

"And what about you?" Lisa looked up to see the annoying girl smiling at her in what she clearly thought was a sweet manner. "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it." Lisa snapped, then saw that everyone was looking at her. She sighed and swallowed her chicken. "Lisa Turpin. Pureblood. My mother is a highpriestess and my father a powerful wizard." More powerful than any of you lot, she bet silently, he could make my mother float.

"Turpin. Tuprin." The girl fake mused, "I don't think I've heard of that name in any of the registries."

"Don't think I've heard of yours either." Actually, Lisa didn't remember hearing her name at all, but the girl seemed to think public regard was important.

"Brocklehurst is a very respectable name!" The girl hissed, all pretense at sweetness gone. "Unlike Turnip."

If that was the worst she could do with Lisa's last name, this would be an easy school year. Lisa just raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you say, Brockle-worst."

"Hurst." The girl's face was red now. "It's Madeline BrockleHURST."

"Sure it is." Lisa licked her spoon clean of mashed potatoes, feeling very much like she won this round. Not about to let the Brockle-worst get another word in, she turned to Su Li who was picking through her dinner without much enthusiasm, "What brought your family to England?"

"Import business." The girl said without glancing up, "For items too expensive to deliver by owl and too delicate to trust to floo or apparition. Kinlin horns, dragon pearls, you know." Lisa didn't and it sounded fascinating, but before she could ask more, the Boot kid piped up about how his family was in the import business as well. He went on to ask Su lots of questions about regulatory laws and storage which he clearly found fascinating and Su found dull.

Lisa didn't mind too much because the savory dishes were cleared away and desert appeared.

0X0X0X0

When the last dishes were cleared away, Lisa wanted nothing more than to find a soft place to lay her head down and fall asleep. But instead the prefects rounded up the first years and began leading them up through the castle. Lisa said castle, but this was the most uncastle like castle she had ever seen. It reminded her more of the painting of Escher- staircases moving randomly through the air. Students slipping through picture frames and disappearing. Doors opening into nothing unless you close, lock, then reopen them to a new corridor.

They kept climbing upwards though- up grand stair wells and twisting stair cases where the ceiling arched impossibly far away. Finally, the dark-skinned prefect stopped outside of a door, knocked on it three times, then opened it to reveal a completely round room filled with desks. Windows were black with night, but Lisa could see the moon- thin and waxing- through the diamond glass.

"Are there any muggleborns?" The prefect asked. There was a general shuffling of feet and shaking of heads- every one peering at each other with curiosity. Lisa caught the Brockle-worst girl giving her a pointed look but she only raised her eyebrows.

"Alright. That makes my job easier." The prefect grinned at them and motioned to the desks. Each desk had a stack of parchment, a jar of quills and a bottle of ink. "This is the Letter writing room. It's right below the owlry. I know some of you have personalized stationary and quills, but for the time being, just use what it is provided to tell your families about your sorting." He checked a pocketwatch and frowned. "We have 30 minutes before the Slytherins claim the room. So hurry up!"

The students scattered and Lisa sat herself at the nearest desk, staring at the paper, the quills, the ink. Of course she knew how to write with a quill. Her hand writing was just bad at the worst of times and the unfamiliar instrument only made it worse. But everyone else was busy scribbling things down, so Lisa pulled a parchment to her.

 _"Dear Celestia."_

What would she write? What could she write? How would she know how to mail it to her mum? She didn't have any stamps!

 _"I have successfully voyaged to this new school and have been sorted into the House of Ravenclaw. I do not know what traits this house contains, but they seem pretty normal to me. There have been a lot of surprises and I miss you already._

 _Please pray for me. I need all the patience, strength, wisdom the Goddess can give me._

 _Love,_

 _Lisa_

Everyone else was eagerly applying themselves to their letters, but Lisa couldn't think of what else to write. If her mother was there, in person, she would have poured out her whole story- the fear, confusion, disappointment, frustration. But on paper, it seemed so petty.

"Everyone done?" The prefect was inspecting his watch again and waving them forward. He then led the up another flight of stairs and into the Owlry. A hundred birds, at least, must have been roosting in that tower. The air was thick with the smell of feathers and the sound of talons on wood. The prefect waved them towards the owls impatiently.

Lisa approached the nearest one who blinked at her slowly, then held his right foot out. On the foot she saw the familiar leather strings.

"I remember you," She whispered as she tied the letter to the owl's legs. "Could you deliver this to my mother? She lives at 105 Beakley street in -shire. The green house with the broken front steps and the large back yard. Her name is Celestia." She wasn't sure what other information to give the bird, but closed her eyes and projected the image of her house as strongly as she could to the owl. Maybe it was telepathic?

Eventually, the owl hooted softly and winged away through the opening in the roof. Apparently, he got the message.

The first year gaggle, now all dragging their feet and looking very tired, followed the Prefect down a completely different flight of stairs, down a corridor covered in tapestries of eagles having tea parties, then up more stairs. Lisa thought her legs might fall off.

"This," The prefect stopped by an unremarkable brown door, "Is the entrance to Ravenclaw tower. To enter the tower, you must answer a riddle. If you can't answer," He shrugged and grinned in a not terribly nice way, "You better hope someone exits soon. Now, any brave volunteers to attempt the first riddle?"

The boys gave each other daring little glances, but none moved forward. Morag shuffled her feet. Su Li stared impassively straight ahead. Padma chewed on the end of her braid thoughtfully. Ugh, thought Lisa, and stepped forward.

"Excellent!" The prefect mock bowed to her and stepped out of the way, "The first contender."

Lisa stared down at the door handle which, she now realized, looked like a face.

"Um. Hello. My name is Lisa," She introduced herself, remembering her readings of fairy tales. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

The small brass eyes looked up at her and blinked. "Brother's and Sister's I have none, but that man's father is my father's son."

Lisa frowned as she thought through the logic, then "That's not a very good riddle. I mean. I am not a man. It should be "brothers and sisters I have none, but that man's mother is my father's daughter.""

"And the answer?" The door knob prompted.

Lisa sighed, "Me." The door opened, "But it's still not a good riddle."

They marched through the door and down a narrow corridor that opened into-

"SURPRISE!" A hundred students dressed in black, blue, and bronze suddenly leapt out of door ways, off balconies, and from behind chairs and tables. A giant banner depicting an eagle that flapped it's wings descended from the ceiling. There was applause and laughter and shouts of congratulations. Students blew horns that sounded like the screeches of eagles or the croaks of ravens. Blue and Bronze streamers took a life of their own and flew around the room. Small fireworks of glittering blue and bronze feathers exploded, fading from existence before they hit the floor.

It was chaos.

It was madness.

She was done.

Lisa half turned, hoping to sneak past the huddle of surprised first years, find the letter room and hide out there until someone, anyone sane stepped into the picture. This must be what Alice felt like when she fell down the rabbit hole.

"Welcome First Year Fledglings!" The first years were surrounded by cheering older students who grabbed them by the shoulders and ushered them in front of the fireplace. Musty robes of blue velvet were draped over their shoulders, while crowns of oak leaves and twigs were placed on their heads. Each student was given a branch and a black feather to hold. Lisa relaxed slightly- whatever else, she recognized the power of a feather and a branch. This seemed more reasonable.

Suddenly, a plump girl with the most lively and vivacious face Lisa had seen, jumped onto a table and raised her wand. The room went silent. The witch touched her wand to her throat and when she spoke her voice echoed through out the room.

"Today is the first day of the new year."

There was a tremendous cheer which was silenced again when the girl raised her wand. She looked as though she was enjoying this very much.

"I, Vanessa Clearwater, head girl of Hogwarts," Another cheer, "am proud to offer eight new fledglings for acceptance into the House of Ravenclaw. Do you accept them, House Ravenclaw?"

"We do not accept them," The house chanted back gleefully. Lisa felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "For they do not know the virtues three."

"Fledglings," Vanessa turned to their small group. This was clearly ritualistic and Lisa drew herself up taller. "Speak now if you know the virtues three."

Lisa's mind blanked. When were they supposed to learn those? Was the prefect who took them to the owls supposed to tell them?

She felt a nudge in her side and saw that the tall girl, Morag, was nodding to the banner hanging on the wall across from them. Wisdom, Wit, Learning were embroidered in bronze thread on the blue velvet. All the other first years were staring at her and Lisa realized with a start they were expecting her to answer.

She stepped forward and nearly lost her cloak.

"Um." She raised her branch and feather, took a deep breath,

"For virtue's true

We know of three

Wisdom, wit, and

Learning be"

Vanessa nodded approvingly and Lisa stepped back relieved. The head girl turned back to the mass of students.

"House Ravenclaw, the fledglings know the virtues three. Do you accept them, House Ravenclaw?"

"We do not accept them," The students chanted again. "For they do not have the virtues three."

"Eight fledglings stand before you, House Ravenclaw. Will any vouch for their virtues?"

The dark-skinned prefect stepped forward, game but not as amused by the process as the head girl. He opened his mouth but was shoved towards the table before he could speak. He shot the crowd a dry look, but climbed up to stand opposite Vanessa.

"I, Solomon Green, seventh year prefect, do vouch for these eight fledglings." He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels, "Wisdom they had to be sorted here. Wit they showed to reach here. But learning I cannot say."

"House Ravenclaw," Vanessa turned back the group and spread her arms, "Shall we see if they can learn?" There was a cheer and then the house swarmed them, each person shouting questions over the other one.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"How do you tell a kneazel from a weasel?"

"When did Harrod the Horrible triumph over the goblins?"

"How many knuts in a galleon?"

Some questions were easy, some were hard, some were impossible to answer. But they kept coming regardless if she answered or not, so Lisa just began to shout out answers to whatever she thought she knew or guess. The other first years took their cues from her and began to do the same.

"Which star rises in the west?"

"Lucifer, the morning star!"

"Who is the Ravenclaw Ghost?"

"We have ghosts?"

"What are monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Oh! Aconite!"

"How many stair cases does Hogwarts have?"

"Don't know!"

After three minutes of the intense back and forth, Vanessa raised her wand and shot out another exploding firework of feathers. The students fell silent and stepped back.

"House Ravenclaw, did the fledglings demonstrate their learning?"

"Yes!" There was a longer cheer- the ritual was clearly winding up.

"House Ravenclaw, the fledglings have demonstrated the virtues three. I ask again, do you accept them, House Ravenclaw?"

"We do! We do! We do!"

"Then let the party begin!" There was the loudest and longest cheer yet.

A/N: Guys, I love Ravenclaw. I might sort into Slytherin, but there is a special, special place in my heart for the nerdy house. Because, nerds really are the coolest people, especially magical nerds. What other house is going to want to stay up past midnight discussing magical theories. Or be willing to try this new spell you found in a book in the library. Or have break downs because it doesn't matter how many times they do this potion, it just doesn't turn out.

For this reason, I think they have some of the best rituals and best parties. Because people who work hard need to party hard to relax. And they get to party with both Slytherins and Gryffindors (and Hufflepuffs obviously). What other House rituals do you think Ravenclaw would have?


	9. In Which Lisa Turpin Goes to the Library

Dawn broke bright, beautiful, and far too early for most of Ravenclaw. Those who remembered to shut their drapes, slept on peacefully. Those who did not, or who spent the night in the common room, blinked groggily, rolled over, and buried their face under the pillow.

Lisa Turpin raised her hands over her head and let the early morning light bathe her face in gentle warmth. Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, she was sure her mother was preforming the exact ritual and that eased the ache in her chest. No matter how strange this school, she was still Lisa, daughter of Celestia High Priestess.

A good night's sleep had done much to strengthen her resolve. Hogwarts was weird, yes. Stupid, undoubtedly so. Downright silly, without a doubt. But she had ridden a boat that could propel itself across the water. Had participated in an initiation ceremony. Had woken to find her robes hemmed with blue and bronze. This was clearly a magical castle and she was going to discover its secrets.

First though, the library.

Lisa turned from the leaded windows and glanced around the common room. Last night, she had been too overwhelmed to look at her new home. The common room itself was wedge shaped, but soared up nearly seven stories. Stair cases curled up the walls on either side of the door- girl's dorms to the left and boy's dorms to the right. At each flight was a door marked with a numeral- one at the bottom, seven at the top. Lisa guessed that each year, her dorm space would advance one flight until she was at the very top- a coveted apartment, she gathered. Balconies, connected by ladders and spiral stair cases, branched out from under the dorm steps and held a variety of chairs, tables, and large cushions. Two long tables and regal chairs dominated the lower floor in front of the massive fireplace built into the wall. Windows rose up fifteen, twenty feet on either side of the fire place giving an impressive view of the lake. The woodwork was dark. The stone was grey. Every metal furnishing was bronze while every pillow, rug, and tapestry was blue.

It gave, Lisa decided, a sense of grandeur and comfort.

Two students were curled on a couch, hands entangled and clearly having spent all night talking. They were still awake- with the blond girl whispering what might have been poetry to the other. They were the only ones still awake. Lisa approached them and cleared her throat.

"Do we have a library?" She asked. Her voice barely stirred the quiet of the room. The dark haired girl yawned and nestled closer to her friend.

"Second floor, east wing. Head right as you leave, the keep making left turns."

That didn't make much sense to Lisa, but she nodded.

"If you get lost, just ask a portrait." The blond haired one told her.

That was much more useful advice and Lisa thanked them. Before leaving the common room, she checked her bag for her notebook, wand, cauldron, athame, and school supply list. She also had a water bottle and snack bar in case she had to miss breakfast. It was a very heavy bag.

Forty five minutes later, she reached the library.

Of course, she had immediately gotten lost. Her third left turn had ended in a girls bathroom made entirely of marble and gold and retracing her steps had only got her more lost wandering down a corridor whose carpet appeared to be patterned in a series of cracked stone flagons so realistic that she was afraid of falling through the floor.

That wasn't even the strangest part of the castle. There were suits of armor who moved whenever she wasn't looking at them. Torches that flared into being as she passed down the hall and then put themselves out, like she was floating through a sea of darkness on a raft of light.

And the pictures on the wall moved.

At first, she thought they were large televisions. But there were too many and they were too realistic and made of real paint. That was how she found out they could talk- when she tried to scratch some paint off with her finger nail. She was yelled at by a man with a stiff, white color and she had to go to an entirely different floor before she found a portrait that didn't sniff at her as a 'paint scratcher.'

Finally, a kindly nun pointed her to a dancing bear who directed her to a woman in a voluminous red cape who suggested she go to the decapitated man who sent her down the hall to the library. It wasn't yet seven and she already had a headache.

Luckily, the library was open and Lisa pushed open the door as though it were the entrance to a sanctuary. Her mother loved libraries. They were always checking out stacks of books from the local one and Lisa had learned that libraries meant safety, comfort, and good reading material.

Of course, the little local library paled in comparison to this. Shelves extended far over her head, each stuffed with thick bound, thin bound, leather bound books. The shelves stretched for ages. Tables were strewn through out the library and small desks were tucked into corners. There were niches to read in. Window seats to lounge on.

Her breath froze in her chest and her palms began to sweat. There was so much to learn. There was too much to learn. Not even in Howard's library- bigger than her mother's- were there this many books. And all on magic. What could they possibly say?

In a daze, she drifted over to the nearest shelf and began reading the titles at random: Every Witch Has Her Day: The Life and Times of Dolorous Dixie. Front Seat at the Fall of Rome: tales from a time traveller. The Dark Night. Ill Met by Moon Light: my dalliances with the fey.

"May I help you?"

Lisa snapped out of her daze and turned to face the voice. A woman sat behind a desk, a severe expression on her face as she studied the girl. A plaque in front of her read: Madame Irma Pince, Librarian. Ah. Just who she was looking for.

"Hello, I'm Lisa Turpin." She introduced herself with a quiet voice and a shy smile. Librarians, in her experience, tended to be much friendlier when she made her awe of books apparent. "I'm a first year Ravenclaw. This is an amazing Library." Her gushing was entirely sincere. The woman's expression softened a fraction.

"Yes, this is one of the largest and most complete collections of wizarding texts in all of Western Europe." She fixed her eyes on Lisa, "It is not a playground. Most of these books come from very limited runs or are one of a kind. They are not to be written in, doodled in, spilled on, or slept upon."

"Of course not!" The indignation was honest, "But if they are so valuable, why are they open to the students?"

"And the public," Madame Pince sniffed, "Because Headmaster Dumbledore believes in the free access to knowledge- never mind if priceless volumes might be destroyed by a careless spell or grubby fingers." Lisa vowed silently to always wash her hands before she came to the library.

"It must be hard to manage this library by yourself," Lisa said, "Do you have help?"

"A few apprenticeship programs for witches or wizards interested in archiving family libraries or research- after graduation," She added sternly as though Lisa was about to volunteer right away. Lisa filed the information in the back of her mind for a post-graduation degree. It was good to know that there was continuing education for magic.

"I was wondering if you could help me find something," She changed the subject sweetly, "Where might I find the first year syllabi texts?"

"You were supposed to have purchased those outside of Hogwarts." Madame Pince snapped, but Lisa was ready for this.

"Oh yes, but you see, I wanted to compare the different editions to see what changes have been made to the curriculum." Her smile didn't falter, even when Madame Pince gave her a look that clearly said she wasn't buying that explanation for a second.

"Indeed." Another long, measured look over Lisa's bulging satchel and handmade robes, "You'll find the texts under their respective categories. Magical Theory, charms, and transfiguration are in the Northern wing. Potions and Herbology in the western, Defense against the Dark arts in the eastern. Filed alphabetically."

"Thank you," Lisa said gratefully. If she could at least have her school books before classes started, that would be a huge weight off her shoulders.

"For first years, books may be checked out for a maximum of two weeks. A single book cannot be checked out more than four times consecutively. If I find any hint of damage to the book, your library privileges are revoked until such time as I deem fit. Do you have any questions," Lisa shook her head, eyes wide.

For a moment, Madame Pince considered her and then finally relented, "You will no doubt learn this elsewhere, but there is a secret passageway beneath that tapestry of the reading narwhal right outside the library up to the picture of the pool playing nuns." Lisa hesitated, then brightened with recognition. The nuns were right outside the Ravenclaw common room.

"Thank you- thank you- I promise, I won't let anything happen to the books- ever-"

Madame Pince sniffed and turned back to her own repair spells, "See that you don't."

A/N: Shorter chapter with more description. Hogwarts is so delightfully random- I don't think JKR spent enough time on the whimsy. Hope you all are enjoying this and having a good day! Thank you for reading!


	10. In Which Lisa Turpin Learns a Charm

First up meant first to breakfast, Lisa realized. Though it was half past seven, most of the long tables were empty except for a few cheerfully, fresh faced folk who Lisa bet were "athletes" and "morning people." Breakfast was already served- bowls of yogurt and granola. Baskets of fresh fruit. Warmed plates of bacon and eggs. Lisa served herself a plate and propped her new magical theory book against a jug of orange juice and began to read.

"T- T, Leslie T- something, right?"

Lisa looked up to see a tired faced Penelope Clearwater flipping through a large stack of parchment.

"Turpin," Lisa supplied helpfully, "Lisa Turpin. Hey- is all magical theory this stupid?" She gestured to the book whose font was suspiciously large and peppered with small, dancing cartoons. Penelope pulled a sheet of paper out with a sigh and then glanced at the book.

"Waffling?" She asked. Lisa nodded. "Oh, yes. He lives up to his name. You won't be able to find a straight answer in anything he says."

"But, it's a text book." Lisa protested. She was used to school books being boring or abbreviated at normal school, but this was magical school. It was supposed to be different. Challenging. Not have pictures of hippos in pointed hats helpfully explaining what theory meant.

"Blame the Magical Education Reforms of 1978." Penelope shrugged, shifting the stack of paper to her other arm so she could push up her glasses, "They decided that, again, with the influx of muggleborns the first and second year reading material was too advanced for such young minds, so they drew up a curriculum that would teach the basics of magic in a way undeveloped minds could understand, at least according to Hestia Florne."

"But that's stupid!" Lisa protested, "How are we supposed to grow if we aren't challenged?"

"That was one of the arguments from the other side, but there are people who believe that excessively challenging material is what drew You-Know-Who's followers to the dark arts." Then, seeing Lisa's frown, she added helpfully, "The material does get more challenging, especially past the fifth year. It helps to pick a discipline and pursue that passionately. It will act as a lens for all the other classes."

That made sense to Lisa. "What did you pick?"

"History. Not a popular choice, but history is the thread that ties all the other disciplines together. It might be difficult to memorize the thirty six banned potions for your OWLS, but if you know the story behind each potion, the politics, it becomes simple."

"Clever." Her estimation of this prefect rose- she was still a little flighty and keen to lecture, but her passion was obvious.

"Sometimes," Penelope sighed and passed the sheet of paper to Lisa. It was a time table, though not one that Lisa had ever seen before. It seemed to spiral out of the center of the page. Lisa turned the paper to read what each date said.

"That's your class schedule," Penelope continued, "It might seem like a lot, especially if you grew up with tutors, but you'll quickly grasp the gist of it." Lisa frowned. It seemed like there were two classes in the morning- or a doubles slot- then lunch, then two classes in the afternoon, dinner, free period, then curfew? The font was tiny.

"Isn't there an orientation?" She asked. Penelope turned back to her and considered.

"Every two years, there is usually a discussion about whether we should implement one- both Slytherin and Hufflepuff do. But last year the conversation inevitably devolved into debates about what should be considered orientation material and what should a Ravenclaw be expected to find out on their own. I heard that some of this year's fourth years were creating a magical guidebook that was the compelation of all their experiences at Hogwarts- but I'm not sure if that came to fruition

"There is always Hogwarts, a History or, if you prefer oral learning, most upperclassmen should be happy to answer any questions you have. Maybe." Penelope added doubtfully, "It might not be a bad idea to ask several people, just to make sure someone isn't lying."

Lisa blinked. The feeling of being well and truly overwhelmed returned with a flourish. She was sure after the confusion of last night that most of today would be spent in orientation- explaining where the library was, when meals were, how you did laundry, etc. Instead…

She placed a hand on the stack of text books to her right. She had successfully found her text books- they didn't look too difficult from her quick perusal. Most seemed to be reference or lists of instructions. More a matter of memorization than comprehension.

She could do this.

Right?

Right.

Slowly, the dining room filled up. Lisa finished her breakfast and skimmed through the rest of the magical theory book. It was pointless, really. The man thought magic was a matter of waving your wand, saying a few words, and expecting your will to manifest in the stupidest way.

There was no discussion of the Gods and Goddess. No candles or incense. No mention of the importance of changing your consciousness through ritual, meditation, and symbols. Just some twaddle about how light magic was the only true form of magic and anything dark was bad.

Was dark magic defined? Nope. Just agree that it was bad and get a pat on the head.

"And of course I would be happy to share his map with you all." Lisa glanced up at the familiar voice and saw Mandy at the head of the gaggle of Ravenclaw first years. No one looked very awake, except Brockle-worst who seemed pleased to be holding court over the sleepy bunch. Morag stifled a yawn. The Boot boy rubbed sleep from his eyes. When Mandy saw her, she frowned.

"Oh, there you are Turnip." Mandy took a seat further down the table, "When I saw you weren't in your drafty corner, I had hoped you'd run back home." She glanced around for some snigger of appreciation but most of the Ravenclaws just focused on piling up their breakfast foods. The drafty corner was referenced to the far left bed in the girl's dorm room. Lisa liked it because in addition to the large windows that filled most of the wall, there was also a small corner window from where the room jutted out from the main tower. It was cooler, but, more importantly, it was more private.

"And miss all the famous Brockle-worst charm?" Lisa batted her eyes at Mandy. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Padma rolling her eyes at Morag. Well, it wasn't like she was trying to cultivate the group. Penelope swooped down at that pointed and handed out timesheets from a greatly diminished pile.

"If anyone has questions, ask Lisa," She said, before hurrying to catch to Ravenclaws trying to sneak out the door. Mandy shot her a poisonous look. Apparently her attempts to impress the group weren't working out so well.

"Oh, Isobel," Mandy switched tactics, turning to the tall witch at her side, "You have to try some of the fruit salad. It's delicious."

"My name is Morag." The girl had a soft burr to her voice.

"But Isobel is such a pretty name. I had Kneazle named Isobel once- Padma, where are you going?" She glanced up as the dark haired girl abruptly jumped up out of her seat, eyes fixed on the far door. A mirror image of Padma dressed in red and gold lined robes had just walked in.

"My sister came down. I want to see how her night was." She ran up to her twin and they hugged for a long moment. Mandy huffed and took a big bite of her toast. Lisa snickered.

"What?" Mandy demanded, "House loyalty is important. Why did you bring all your books? We only have… Transfiguration and Charms."

"Because," Lisa surely wasn't going to explain her reasoning to Brockle-worst.

"And why are they all library books?" Mandy peered closer, "Didn't you get the school list letter. Or were you too poor?" At the last question her voice rose in delight. Lisa's grip tightened on the edges of her book.

"I'm comparing editions." She lied. Mandy snorted and, seeing that the eyes of the other first years were on her, raised her head a little higher.

"Which is why you are looking at the current edition, right?" She smirked triumphantly, "I mean, being poor does explain your ratty old robes. Hand me downs from what- your great grandmother? And that bag-"

Lisa slammed her book on the table and opened her mouth to reply when Solomon, the prefect who took them to the owlry, strode in.

"C'mon. Class starts in 20 and it will take you fifteen to get to-" He snatched the timesheet from Anthony- "To charms. That's on the second floor. Take the main staircase up, make a left. Do NOT take the second right or we won't see you until next week. If you hit the Lilypad room, you've gone too far."

Professor Flitwick was both their charms professor and their Head of House. He was also not a morning person if the steaming cup of coffee was any indication. It was at least as large as his head. Not, Lisa amended after a moment, that that was as impressive as it first sounded. He was a very small man who needed to stand on a stack of books to see over the podium.

In his high, squeaky voice he read out the attendance and then explained that this first year they were going to master 10 different charms. These charms were representative of the 10 different categories of charms: appearance, locomotion, sound, size, shape, sentience, conjuration, warding, defensive, and time. The next five years and, Professor Flitwick sincerely hoped, the two after that in his NEWT classes, would be spent developing their range of charms in both quality and quantity.

He went on to explain that the focus of this first year was simply to become acquainted with their wands, since none of them had used wands before. There was a general swell of laugher at this comment. Lisa didn't join in. What the heck did any of these spells have to do with wand work?

What followed was brief history of Charms and discussion of the difference between Charms, Jinxes, and Hexes. While the first two may be allowed, the last group was prohibited on school properties. For their first homework assignment, they were to write eight inches on the difference between these categories. References could be found in both their Standard Book of Spells and Magical Theory text (Lisa scoffed) but up to five extra points would be awarded to those who reference other, relevant texts.

"And now for the part you have all been waiting for!" He squeaked and flicked his wand. From a box on his right, twenty black buttons flew into the air like a swam of bees and settled down before each student. Lisa watched with wide eyes and then poked at her button. She couldn't see or feel any wires. Was that what she was going to learn how to do? Telekinesis?

"Now students! The spell we will learn today is a simple color change spell to turn your black button blue. The spell itself is simple: Colovaria Azureus. The wand motion is a half circle, windershins, then a flick down about twenty five degrees, followed by a flick up 145 degrees, and then a half circle clockwise. When you flick you wand down, picture the shade of blue you wish to see strongly in your mind. Are there any questions?"

Lisa's hand was in the air, "Why are we doing this?"

There was a snickering, not completely nice, from the students with the green piping. Professor Flitwick remained oblivious.

"Excellent question, Miss Turpin! Why indeed do we start with this spell?" That wasn't what Lisa asked, but she let it go, "Though it is not a simple charm to master, what it does provide is a clear distinction between words, action, and thought. As your skill increases, you will find that your words will shorten, your movements will quiet, and perhaps, after many years of study for some of you, you need but think the thought to see it happen!" the diminutive man beamed around the classroom. "But for now, begin!"

All around her, students burst into mutters. Some pulled out rolls of parchment and quills and were jotting down the notes that appeared on the board. Others were practicing the movement of the wands, muttering the words under their breath, or squeezing their eyes shut in concentration.

Lisa sighed and sent a gentle prayer to the Goddess for forgiveness if this form of magic offended her at all. She quickly memorized the incantation and wand movement. Then, slowly practicing the wand movement with the visualization, she faced her button.

"Colovaria Azureus," She muttered. Circle the wand, flick down, think blue thoughts, flick up, circle the wand and-

Nothing.

Despite herself, Lisa was disappointed. She had, secretly, hoped to be a magical progeny. That her training and skills would put her years beyond her peers. If this were a normal magical school, she thought viciously, she would be. Instead-

"Oooh! Look! Draco! I think mine is a little bluish!" A girl with an upturned nose and dark hair squealed to the boy sitting next to her. Flitwick hurried to her side.

"Well done, Ms. Parkinson. This time, try to make the circle of the wand larger, about the size of the button itself."

Lisa, eavesdropping, took the advice and tried again. Then again. Then again. All around her grew the excited shouts as buttons slowly turned blue, or shimmered, or in poor Anthony's case, melted ("You were thinking of the ocean, Mr. Goldstien, you must think of the color alone!"). Each suggestion, Lisa attempted but her button remained stubbornly, irrefutably black.

"Oh well done Ms. Brocklehurst." Lisa's head shot up to see Professor Flitwick admiring a very blue button sitting in front of Mandy, "One point for Ravenclaw for quick execution. Perhaps you would be so kind as to help your classmates?"

"Of course, Professor! It would be my pleasure." Mandy's voice was smug. She twisted in her chair to stare back at Lisa. "Do you need any help, Lisa?" Lisa had the sudden urge to hide her button behind her book. She smiled tightly back at her.

"Not at all." And certainly not from you, she thought.

The rest of the hour and a half dragged on with impossible slowness. Every few minutes Mandy would turn back to check on Lisa's progress and every time Lisa's shame grew as her button refused to do anything but remain, well, a button.

Finally, Professor Flitwick called a halt to the practices. He reminded everyone of their essay and suggested that if they were struggling with this spell, they practice every night until they mastered it. Next week, they would be practicing the same spell with different colors.

Brilliant, Lisa thought, as she hefted her bag onto her shoulder, just what she needed. Maybe Transfiguration would be better.

A/N: How are all enjoying the niggly details of the story? I love writing and thinking of them, but are they fun to read? Hope you all have a great day!


	11. In Which Lisa Turpin is Horrified

Transfiguration was not better.

If anything, it seemed to be worse. But two hours ago, Lisa didn't know that and was the first to be packed and out of the classroom, books braced against her chest as she hurried-

Wait, where was the transfiguration classroom?

"Excuse me!" She called out to a tall boy in green robes who was lounging next to the statue of a humpbacked witch "Where's the first year transfiguration room?"

He glanced over slowly, looked at the stack of books in her arms, looked at her robes, looked at her boots, then gestured vaguely down the hall to the right. Helpful.

"Oh, don't mind him."

Lisa looked up to see a petite girl with a riot of brown curls leaving the charms classroom. There were some girls who were blessed to look stunning no matter their age- adorable in childhood, beautiful in womanhood, and stately with age. This girl was not one of them. However, Lisa thought, she would probably grow into her features in a few years.

"That's Dolphinius. He's not a help to anyone. If you really want to get under his skin, you can call him Dolly. He's my second cousin." All of this information was regaled with a strange, rolling cadence that seemed to imply it was all related if you were clever enough to see the connections.

"Ah," Lisa replied sagely.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass. This is Tracy Davis. She wrote down the locations of all our classes. Tracy is a halfblood. But through no fault of her own." A muscle in Tracy's cheek jumped, but she grimly pulled a small black notebook from her bag.

"My you have a lot of books. What they say is true about Ravenclaw. My sister might be sorted there. She has the right hair color for it. Tracy, where did you say our Transfiguration class was?"

"Third floor." Lisa spared Tracy an amused glance and the girl rolled her eyes in response. Oblivious, Daphne prattled on.

"Wonderful. The third floor is lovely. Why are you carrying those books? Ladies don't carry books. Theo?" A weedy looking boy with a pale face lifted his head at his name.

"Yes, Daphne?"

"Carry this poor girl's books for her. Be a gentlewizard. Manners are almost lost in this day and age. The Notts grew up just next door to us. We're practically siblings." The boy gave an aggravated sigh and held out his arms for the books. After a moment's hesitation, Lisa handed them over. As soon as she did so, Daphne threaded her arm through Lisa's and tugged them towards the staircase.

"Making friends is simply the best. Can you believe the charms professor? The class could not have been more boring. Color changing charms? At our age? Of course Father is on the board, but he is simply hamstrung by Dumbledors faction. We could be learning real magic."

"Oh yes, I agree." Lisa said with real feeling. "I was expecting charms to involve amulets or-"

"Oh I know." Daphne continued after having taken a breath, "Imagine if we could learn to make amulets. It's such a lost art. Unicorn hair would make the best amulets. We have a herd on the property. Dumbledore should let us breed them with his. Mother says everything wrong with society can be found in him. It's frightful." Lisa had the sudden flash of a long limbed, brown haired woman lounging on a couch complaining about the frightful state of affairs, the frightful state of the weather, the frightful state of her daughter's hair- all in the same tone.

"Here." Tracy consulted her small notebook and pointed to an open door. Daphne swung them inside and sat Lisa down in the middle row of desks. It looked the same as the other classroom. Desks arranged in a semi-circle around a main desk. The only difference was that this room was far neater- no books to stand on, no strange boxes of objects in the corner. A cat, sitting on the desk and blinking at each student who came in, was the only thing out of place.

"Now you sit there. Theo will sit next to you. He is such a gentlewizard. Tracy and I will sit over here. We must do tea. Ta ta!" She sailed to the other side of the room still talking. Lisa glanced at Theo.

"Is she always like that?"

"Yes." Her books hit the table with a thunk. "She's a menace. Her mother is worse. But they do own most of the land in England." He sat down with a sigh.

"You don't have to sit here." Lisa reminded him.

"Yes, I do. Or else she won't shut up about it. 'Oh they had a feud. It's so romantic. An absolute tragedy. Their children were going to be gorgeous.'" He captured Daphne's rolling tone in perfect mockery. "It happened once at a party. She wouldn't shut up about it for months."

"You like her?" Lisa hazarded a guess.

"Merlin, no." He sneered. "I'm not pretty enough. No, she's decided she's going to marry some French Wizard and live in a Chateau in Normandy."

That, Lisa thought, was a decidedly unwitchy goal to have. Her mother often complained of women who joined the witchcraft tradition with no more than a teaspoon of brains between their ears, their only goal to learn enough magic to land a husband. Preferably one who was rich, young, handsome, and a superb lover. As if Magic would care about those trifles.

However, her mother did mention how it was the wealthy eccentrics who funded most of the alchemical and occult studies throughout history. They were important to the progression of magic as any hedge witch, but couldn't be held to as high a standard.

That, Lisa decided, fit Daphne to a tee. She spoke as though she were used to people hanging onto her every word and doing her bidding without question. If her family owned most of the land in England too, maybe Lisa could put up with the attitude.

Maybe.

They sat in silence while the rest of the class filed passed. The Ravenclaw boys were all exclaiming excitedly about the Charms class- how cool it was, how amazing Professor Flitwick was, how Anthony had managed to melt his button and did he think he could do it again? Lisa rolled her eyes. On the other side of the room, the blond boy and the dark haired girl who had first managed the charm had set up court next to Daphne and the three of them were, having an incomprehensible conversation that seemed to involve much talking and no listening.

"Well, of course I had to stay behind and ask for book recommendations. We could get up to five extra credit points!"

Lisa gritted her teeth when she heard Mandy's voice echo from behind her. The girl strode into the room, smug on her single point won for Ravenclaw in the first class. She saw where Lisa was sitting and her eyebrows rose. But she pointedly took a seat in front of her.

"You know Lisa," She said, twisting on the bench, "I noticed you weren't able to get the spell today. I would be happy to offer some pointers. My mother said I was always very patient with the slow kids."

Lisa glared at her but didn't say anything. It didn't matter. Mandy didn't matter. It was just one class. It didn't matter that everyone else had already managed the spell.

"Maybe you'll be better at Transfiguration?" Mandy continued, "I mean, you are such a powerful witch, right? And if you're not, I could probably tutor you in this as well. I won't even ask money. It would be an act of charity for those," Her eyes travelled up and down Lisa's robe, "in need.

"Like you." She added, incase Lisa hadn't got it. Lisa had.

Lisa glanced at the boy next to her. Theo's eyes had gone distant and he was staring at his lap like he could wish them into non-existence, so long as he didn't acknowledge the conversation. Some help he was.

"Typical of Hogwarts, of course" Lisa was glad for the sudden distraction as the blond boy in the corner pitched his voice to be heard by the whole room, "To abandon us all in the classroom on our first day. Wait until my father hears about this! He won't be pleased, let me tell you."

Before the boy could explain just what he was going to tell his father, the cat on the desk rose to its feet and, with a fluid motion, jumped off the desk and turned into a woman.

"I assure you that will not be necessary, Mr. Malfo-"

"You're a SKIN WALKER!" Lisa was on her feet, hands planted on the desk and eyes wide in amazement.

"I beg your pardon, Miss," She glanced at the list on the desk, "Turpin."

"You-you- you were a cat. Now you're a human. You can turn into a cat!"

"Ah, yes. That is called an Animagus transformation- a very advanced skill of Transfigurati-"

"Will we learn to do that?" Lisa was still gaping at the woman in astonishment.

"Perhaps," The woman fixed her with a steely glance, "If you prove to have a knack for Transfiguration and if I may finish this lecture without more interruptions."

Lisa slowly sat down. Oh thank you Goddess. Thank you goddess in your infinite mercy for you have not abandoned your servant in these strange and stupid halls.

"As I was saying, my name is Professor McGonagall and I am here to instruct you- what are you doing Miss Turpin?"

"Giving thanks to the Goddess that we will finally be learning real magic." Lisa replied, neither opening her eyes, nor lowering her hands. In her heart she continued to pray. Thank you for this chance to become more connected to you, to throw off the limitations of this human form, to become one with the natural world.

"I am sure my colleagues would disagree with you."

"No," Lisa replied solemnly as she opened her eyes, "No, this is real magic."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall's lips were twisted into a small, confused smile. "In many ways, transfiguration is at the heart of magic. Potions may allow you access to the inner nature of things. Charms may allow you to change the outer nature of things. But it is only transfiguration which allows you to change the thing in and of itself.

"For instance." She waved her wand and her desk turned into a large, fat pig which snorted and looked curiously at the students. Before it could trot away, she waved her wand again and the desk reverted to its normal form. "I have- sit down, Miss Turpin."

"You created life- that pig was alive- and you just waved your wand and it-" She lost her words as she tried to wrap her mind around this concept. Gods. This woman was going to teach them to be gods. To wave their wands and create life. To become so cruel and callous that such a gift was not revered, not sacred, not-

"Miss Turpin, have you never seen Transfiguration before?" The professor's patience was wearing thin. Lisa shook her head.

"I have seen my mother transform things- base things to beautiful, live to dead, but she has never- would never- be so callous with such magic."

Professor McGonagall nodded, "Inanimate to animate transformations are some of the most difficult and dangerous transfigurations to take place, second only to self-transfiguration."

"That's not-"

"Miss Turpin, there will be time for questions at the end of the lecture, but you must sit down and wait until then." Professor McGonagall gave her a hard look and Lisa sat down slowly- cheeks hot with humiliation, but hands cold with fear. This professor had just killed a pig and no one had blinked. What if she turned Lisa into a desk? Or a pig?

"Thank you," the woman nodded and continued, "As I was saying, transfiguration is one of the most difficult magical skills to master because it is, at its heart, the change from one thing into another. It is also the most dangerous magical skill you will learn. A botched charm will soon find an anticharm. A botched potion has an antidote. But a botched transfiguration has no anti-figuration. The item will revert in time, but it will never be the same.

"No other school in Europe teaches transfiguration to the level or quality as Hogwarts, so you may feel proud that you will be receiving a more thorough and rigorous education than any other witch or wizard. To that end, I expect all of you to treat Transfiguration with the awe and respect it deserves. There will be no transfiguring of yourself, of your classmates, of any other student, under threat of immediate expulsion. There will be no transfiguration outside of the bounds of this classroom. There will be no experimental transfiguration. Period. Do you understand?"

The class nodded in mute agreement. Lisa just felt cold.

"Very good. Now, we will begin by copying down this lecture." Professor McGonagall tapped her wand against the blackboard and words spread into view. The lettering was small and the words were dense. "You will have a twelve inches due, next class, on a summary of what you learned today and an explanation in your own words of the restrictions for transfiguration."

Lisa's initial excitement that had given way to horror, slowly collapsed into boredom as the lecture dragged on. The initial examples were to excite the students, but it soon became clear that it would be years, perhaps never for most of them, until they could expect to perform such feats of transfiguration themselves. Instead, they copied down complicated theories that McGonagall assured them would make more sense the more they studied and tried to wrap their minds around the idea of an object in itself as opposed to a collection of attributes.

"Now," Professor McGonagall concluded, "In these last twenty minutes you will each be given a match. Your goal is to transfigure it into a needle. Yes, Mr. Boot?"

"Um. What's the incantation for that?"

"This is not Charms, Mr. Boot. The work of transfiguration works on a deeper level. You must will the match to become a needle. And to do that you must first understand the match." Then, seeing their confusion, the woman smiled, "I do not expect any of you to succeed on this first attempt. We will spend the rest of this semester focusing on simple transformations of this sort."

Matches were handed out and students hunched over the stick of wood. The muttered at it. The poked it with their wands. The closed their eyes and thought. The willed to the best of their abilities. Lisa thought of the effortless switch from cat to woman. If she could just learn that. If she could just learn to turn into an animal, this class might be worth it. She would just choose never to breathe life into anything.

So, she poked at her match with her wand. Nothing.

She asked it politely to turn into a needle. Nothing.

She closed her eyes and imagined the wood turning into metal, the point sharpening, a hole opening in the match head. Nothing.

She prayed to the Goddess. Nothing

She cast a quick glance to see if Theo had any tips. Nothing.

She-

"Ah. A point for Ravenclaw, Miss Brocklehurst. That is a passable effort." Mandy, looking slightly sweaty around the temples looked up at her and beamed. On the desk before her, lay a pointy, slightly silvery match.

Lisa collapsed her head onto her arms and tried not to scream.

A/N: this chapter got away from me a bit. I didn't expect Lisa to be so worked up about pigs and desks, but now that she is, I sort of see her point, you know? Think about all the turtles that were turned into teapots. Did that hurt them? Were the fine afterwards? Were they just kept in a tank for hundreds of students to practice on? Let me know your thoughts.


	12. In Which Lisa Turpin Destroys a Cauldron

By the time the young Ravenclaws found and then filed themselves down to the dungeons, Lisa was close to tears and close to lashing out to shut Mandy Brockelhurst's big, stupid mouth once and for all.

So what if she couldn't cast a simple color changing charm on a button. So what if she couldn't turn a matchstick into a needle or even change its appearance at all, even while Mandy got a house point for making the matchstick look slightly slimmer on one end and sort of silvery. If you squinted really hard. And turned your head. It's not like she needed matches or needles. She had a box of each in her trunk now- for lighting her candles and mending her robes respectively.

Transfiguration was stupid.

Charms was stupid.

And Mandy Brocklehurst was the most stupid of all!

With these thoughts running through her mind, she stomped into the cold dungeon room, threw herself roughly onto the wooden bench in front of the low table, and buried her face in her arms. The rest of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff first years trooped in around her. The Ravenclaws settled in on the left hand side of the room while the more cheerfully chattering Hufflepuffs settled in on the right.

"Um. Do you mind?" Lisa lifted her head and stared at the Boot boy who pointed to the bench next to her. She shook her head and straightened slowly, pushing her hair away from her shoulders in an effort to master her emotions. Boot, she thought his first name was Terry, settled in and began setting up his supplies.

First ,his cauldron was placed carefully on the small stand that sat in front of each student. Then, he pulled out a leather bound box which, upon opening the lid, revealed a collection of glass phials and boxes filled with all manner of strange things. Were those tongues? And tiny mushrooms? And eyeballs? Lisa glanced around the room and saw that the other Ravenclaws were also assembling their things and each of them also had a box filled with strange supplies. Some boxes were a more basic wood, others, like Padma's, looked like they were made of inlaid mother of pearl. Her stomach sank somewhere in the vicinity of her knees.

Wonderful, she thought, another thing she didn't have.

As though psychic, though Lisa was positive she wasn't, Mandy turned around at her thought and cast a dismissive eye over Lisa's empty table space. She gave Lisa a tight smirk.

"What's the matter Lisa, didn't you know you were supposed to have a cauldron for potions? Or is that another thing your mother does differently." She sniggered unpleasantly and looked towards Padma for a reaction. The dark haired girl gave her a reserved smile and went back to reading her potions book. Miffed, Mandy turned further in her chair towards Lisa.

"What? Does she just close her eyes and chant and suddenly find Felix Felicis in her tea pot?"

Lisa hadn't the faintest idea of what Felix Felicis was, but she promised that she would look it up as soon as possible. She considered Mandy with faintly narrowed eyes and debated counting to ten in her head. But she had had enough of Mandy's barbs for one day.

Leaning forward she fixed her eyes on the stupid girl's glasses and said in her gentlest voice, "You should shut your mouth before I shut it for you." Then sat back down with her sweetest smile. It was a technique she had seen her mother use on a rowdy passenger on the bus. Lisa hadn't heard what her mother leaned forward to whisper to the man exactly, but the man had been terrified when she leaned back and smiled at him. He got off at the next stop.

Her words didn't have quite the same effect. Mandy sneered a little uncertainly and glanced over at Padma, who was ignoring them, and Boot, who was watching the interaction a little warily. Any audience apparently was enough for Mandy.

"Big words for a witch without a cauldron."

"You mean like this?" Lisa pulled her cauldron out of her bag with a little effort. It was heavy, but, at least to her eye, looked the same as all the others. Thank you Mother Goddess for this small favor. Mandy apparently couldn't tell the difference between her mother's cauldron and the other either because she immediately switched tactics.

"And you Potions Supply Kit?"

"I left it in my room," Lisa lied smoothly. There hadn't been a Potions Supply Kit on the acceptance letter. She was positive of it! How did everyone else have one? Still, if it had been necessary, it would have been on the form. Though Lisa's faith in the school's bureaucracy decreased each hour.

All further thoughts were suspended as the hook nosed man swept into the room. His voice demanded your immediate and undivided attention, though he spoke softly. Lisa leaned forward to soak up his every word.

Bottle fame? Brew glory? This was what magic was about! Forget teaching pineapples to tap dance or turning a desk into a pig- could she really learn how to stopper death? What did that even mean?

When Professor Snape snapped at them to open their books and begin brewing, Lisa was a convert. There were stars in her eyes and she was dancing on clouds as she pulled her library book out of her bag and turned to page 13- a boil cure. Lisa immediately thought of Donna, one of their next door neighbors who smelled of mothballs and would often complain to Celestia of her boils over tea. It was worth learning this potion just to free up some of her mum's afternoons!

Flasks appeared on the corner of each of the student's desks and filled with clear water. No doubt the fresh spring water required from the text. Lisa, following Terry's actions, poured the water into the cauldron and watched, amazed, as the flask refilled to about half its previous contents. She glanced down and saw that step 7 required adding half again as much water as she started with. Lisa's eyebrows rose. Now, this was a useful bit of magic.

"Um." She was distracted from her appreciation by Boot who had unpacked his supply box, "You can share supplies with me, Turpin." He offered, "Since you left your kit in your room."

Lisa smiled at him and accepted. When it turned out that they required three cubes of fresh dandelion the size and shape of a baby's molar, she went to the front to collect enough dandelion for the both of them. And, when it turned out that Boot was rubbish at dicing or slicing or knives of any sort, she cut up enough dandelion root and honey suckle for them both. It wasn't that different from chopping vegetables for dinner.

Ingredients prepared, she turned back to the text and hesitated. The book called for the lacewings to be added to the cold water and then brought to a boil with a level two heat. Lisa, glancing under her cauldron for a gas jet or candle or something to create fire, was stumped.

"Merlin Turpin, are you that dumb?"

Lisa glanced up to see Mandy sneering at her- a happy little flame burning under her cauldron. It looked like it came from the small brick located under each of the stands.

"It's a standard burner," Mandy continued, "Haven't you seen one before? You just tap it with your wand. Or," Her sneer grew a bit wider, "Maybe you don't even have enough magic to do something as simple as that."

Professor Snape looked up from where he was examining a sweating Hufflepuff's dicing work and Mandy was suddenly very interested in examining her potion. Lisa's cheeks were burning as she looked down at her own wand. Just tap it on the brick, Mandy said. What if it didn't light, just like it didn't turn buttons from black to blue or a match into a needle?

Suddenly, a wand reached out and tapped the brick in front of her twice. A small flame jumped up and began burn. Lisa glanced over to Boot and saw that a similar flame was burning under his cauldron. He glanced over to where Snape was looking back at the Hufflepuff and then bent his head.

"Tap it once for level one heat, twice for level two up to five levels- for a standard brick," He muttered to her, "Double tap to decrease one level and hold your wand on it to extinguish the flame. You have brewed potions before right?" He didn't ask in a mean way, more in a cautious manner as though nervous to be sitting next to her if she hadn't.

Thinking back to all the balms, tinctures, and teas she and her mother had made over the years, Lisa nodded. "Of course I have." Then, catching his glance to the brick, added. "We usually do it over an open flame though."

"Oh," Boot seemed to think about this for a bit and then asked hesitantly, "Your family's very traditional, aren't they?"

Lisa latched onto the word immediately. "Oh yes. Very traditional. But besides the fire, it's not that different. The most important think is intent, you know. Extending your will into the potion." At least that is what Marie always told her. Intent made the medicine. You could cure someone with nothing strong than a cup of tea, the right prayers, and a strong will. Lisa wasn't sure who exactly she should pray to for a boil cure, but the basic idea seemed about right.

Boot accepted this explanation with a nod and they both turned back to their potion making. The potion was far more specific than any salve or tincture she had ever made with her mum. Step four took seven minutes, but step five, adding the dandelion cubes, had to be completed in thirty seconds. It took all of her concentration and, despite feeling stressed and nervous about each of the steps, Lisa found her anger banked and almost began to enjoy herself. Enjoy herself, that was until-

"Why are you so dumb, Turpin?" Mandy had come to the slow wait of the potion making, about a step behind Lisa, she noted viciously. "Don't you know that your potion is supposed to be orange now instead of brown? You can't even make a potion properly can you?"

"Shut up, Mandy!" Lisa's temper which, until now had been settled, suddenly roared into life. She glanced at the directions and saw to her dismay that her potion was supposed to be orange and instead was a very muddy looking brown instead. Even this? Even real magic that didn't require a wand? She couldn't even do this?

"Or what?" Of course Mandy's potion was a perfect orange and she knew it, "Going to hex me? You can't even light a fire brick."

Lisa slammed her hand on the table, causing the knives to clatter. Across the room, Snape rose slowly and approached them. Her cauldron, as though noticing her rage, began to bubble rapidly into a roiling boil.

"Open your mouth one more time, Brocklehurst," Lisa said, brandishing her cutting knife at the girl, "and I will make you regret it."

Brocklehurst opened her mouth to reply when Lisa's potion gave out a sound like a high pitched wail and her cauldron exploded. Viscous brown liquid spattered everywhere, but the force of the blast was hurled towards Mandy who immediately began screaming as the boiling liquid filled her mouth. Under Lisa's amazed eyes, Brocklehurst began to sport red, angry boils wherever the liquid touched her skin.

"What is the meaning of this!" Snape loomed over them, lips white with fury. He glanced at Mandy, who was beginning to look less and less like a girl and more like a monster from a Lovecraft novel. He took a phial from his pocket and poured it down the girl's throat. Immediately, the boils stopped forming and began to shrink. No one else in the area seemed to have been hit so badly.

"You." He turned to Padma who had flung her text book up reflexively and had protected herself from the worst of the slash. A few stray boils sprouted on her forehead. "Take your housemate to the hospital wing. Now." The girl nodded and hurried Mandy out of the room, still wailing in pain.

"You." Lisa suddenly knew what the mouse felt like standing in front of a snake. Never, ever, had she ever had anyone so angry with her, look down on her with such contempt and fury. She could barely meet Professor Snape's eyes, but didn't dare look away.

"I expect such displays from the Gryffindors, but had hoped the Ravenclaw house might acquit itself better. 10 points from Ravenclaw," her housemates around her gasped in horror, "For misreading the directions and detention with me, this evening, for responding to the provocation of another."

He turned without another word and Lisa sank back onto her bench, staring hard at the ruins of her cauldron, trying not to burst into tears.

A/N: and this is the beginning of the section inspired by the Guest's comments weeks ago! Visits, favs, and follows brighten my day, but reviews are what really make me want to write more! Let me know what you think and have a great day!


	13. In Which Lisa Turpin Serves Detention

That evening, detention could not come quickly enough.

Potion accidents made lively gossip in the halls of Hogwarts- few other classes combined the volatility of potions, potential for mishap, and terror of the professor into quite so potent a brew. Had Lisa cared, this explosion earned her the rank of first potion accident of the semester, a rank the Weasely twins coveted dearly.

The accident alone would not have caused all the houses to be whispering among themselves at dinner. Instead, wild rumors circulated about the confrontation prior to the explosion. Some claimed that Lisa had cursed Mandy with a boils hex, threw her cauldron at the girl, or, in one of the more extreme versions, grabbed Mandy by the hair and dunked her head in the boiling brew while crying aloud prayers in an unknown and probably Dark ritual.

Naturally, this last version was the most popular.

Lisa sat in a circle of silence at the end of the table- eyes focused on her Shepard's pie but unable to muster the appetite to take more than a bite.

She had lost 10 points.

In the first week.

Ravenclaw, who prided itself on academic standing and house points, was back at zero. Below Gryffindor of all houses. Lisa might have thought the house points were a bit stupid, but the rest of her house didn't and their anger hurt. Even Boot wouldn't look at her.

At least, Mandy was still in the Hospital wing. Thank the goddess for small favors.

Finally, dinner was done and the dishes cleared themselves away- Lisa frowned at their disappearance, the mystery still niggling at her brain- and she rushed out the doors and down to the dungeons. Professor Snape hadn't said what time exactly she was supposed to arrive, but Lisa decided she preferred the damp silence of the dungeon to the whispers and stares of her common room.

It turned out that she was early and Lisa settled down by the potion room door to wait with her potions book. Even after about the 100th time rereading the instructions, she still didn't know where she had gone wrong that afternoon and was about to conclude that maybe the Goddess had heard her threat to Mandy and manifested it.

If so, Lisa couldn't help but smile. Just a little. It was nice to know that even if she was pants at charms, transfiguration, and, apparently, potions, she could still curse people. The Goddess hadn't abandoned her totally.

So, when a group of Slytherin girls passed by whispering behind their hands that "there she was- the one who could curse you by looking at you." Lisa didn't mind all that much and gave them a cheerful wave. They broke form and ran down the hallway.

Her good mood soured when Professor Snape swept down the hallway. He saw her sitting on the floor and sneered, before unlocking the door.. She scrambled up to follow him, numb from the chill floor.

"Clean those." He pointed towards a towering stack of cauldrons piled before a long stone sink, "And your mess from before. No magic, Miss Turpin," He disappeared into his office and Lisa sighed. No magic. Like she needed to be told that. Like she would ever use magic to clean something. Another stupid set of spells she bet.

The work took the better part of two hours. The remnants of the boil cure potion had congealed into a stick mess which needed to be scrapped up and then soaked before she could scrub it away. Apparently, she wasn't the only one to have messed up her first potion because many of the cauldrons were coated with the brown gunk. Still, it wasn't that different from washing some of the pots and pans at home after her mother forgot she had a stew on the stove.

Nearly at curfew, she stacked the last cauldron on the pile to dry and went to knock on Professor Snapes door. He had apparently been grading essays from the ink on his hands.

"You're done?" He had stopped by to inspect her work several times over the past two hours so he merely glanced at the cauldrons now, "You may go. Let this be a lesson to you Miss Turpin- the potions room has no tolerance of petty school girl grudges. The slightest mistake may cost you your life."

"Yes, about that-" The man paused in the act of closing his door and Lisa swallowed down her fears. "Do you know why my cauldron exploded?"

"I would assume, Miss Turpin, it was due to some monumental error on your part."

"But I followed all the directions perfectly!" She wished that had come out more calmly.

"Indeed, Miss Turpin." He drew himself up and stared down his long nose, "And what step were you on when your cauldron exploded?"

"Step 9," She said confidently, "I had just finished sprinkling the honeysuckle flowers on the surface of the potion."

"And before that?"

"Step 8, reduce the heat back to level 2, stir winder shins for three full circles with a silver rod and wait until the color turns a burn orange. Before that was Step 7, where you add half as much water-"

"I am uninterested, Miss Turpin, in listening to the bookish recitation of a recipe I know." Lisa flinched at the contemptuous tone, "There is a difference between knowing the steps and being able to perform them."

"I did them correctly!" She was sure she had. She had been very careful.

"Clearly," He glanced past her and into the classroom, "You did not. Else your classmate would be in her dorm room instead of the infirmary."

"Yes. Ok. So tell me what didn't I do correctly!" Lisa had never met a teacher so frustrating "I know I messed up, but I don't know how. I did all the steps correctly. I memorized the directions. It should have worked! But it didn't. It turned brown instead of orange. Viscous instead of thin. A boil instead of a simmer. If I added too much honey suckle, half of it should have evaporated. If the heat was too high, it should have been rendered inert and lumpish. If-"

"And how, Miss Turpin, do you figure all of that?" His voice was still as contemptuous as before, but he was looking at her less like she was a smear on the bottom of his shoe. Lisa suddenly wondered if she should have just stayed silent.

"Well, the book said-"

"Have you finished your book?"

"No, but-"

"Then I fail to see why you would bother me with such inane questions when you are perfectly capable of researching the cause yourself."

"But-"

"Goodnight, Miss Turpin. A point from Ravenclaw for missing curfew."

Lisa looked at the clock and saw that she had three minutes before curfew started, but before she could protest, the office door was shut in her face. She stared at it in shock and then turned on her heel and stomped out of the dungeons.

The. Worst. Teacher. Ever.

A/N: I have a soft spot for Snape as a teacher. He's mean. He's a bully. But he really loves potions (in my head at least) and can appreciate intelligent, competent, interested students. Of course, no first year would ever be deserving of those words. But a fifth year? There may be hope for Lisa yet.

As always, I appreciate all views, favs, and follows, but it is reviews that make my heart sing and my mind whirl with ideas for the story! Let me know what worked for you, what didn't, and what you would like to see more of! Thank you and have a great day!


	14. In Which Lisa Turpin Studies a Plant

It was with a heavy heart that Lisa greeted the sun that morning. She was grateful for the quiet of the common room in the predawn light. Grateful to wake before her room mates, though Mandy's empty bed was a harsher rebuke than any she had yet received.

1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi kept her company at breakfast. It proved to be more interesting than the Waffling nonsense, but not a great deal more interesting. Her mother had several guidebooks to British flora and encyclopedias of herbs that ranged from the magical to the medical. Interesting, if you were looking up how to keep thieves from your front porch or to cure a cold, but not engaging reading.

Morag arrived in the Great Hall, took one look at Lisa, and sat at the far end of the table. Five minutes later, the Ravenclaw boys arrived in a gaggle, glanced between the two girls, shared a whispered conversation, and then sat down next to Morag. Padma and Su Li arrived not long after, but Lisa didn't wait to see where they sat. She snapped her text closed and stalked out of the room. She would wait near the greenhouses.

Navigating Hogwart's grounds proved easier than the interior which Lisa attributed to the lack of shifting staircases, doors, and possibly entire corridors. Actually, in the early morning, Hogwarts appeared almost beautiful. The lake glistened, the forest darkened invitingly, the hills spread out around them without a sign of civilization. Lisa took a deep breath of the crisp air and felt her heart ease.

Goddess, she prayed, give me the strength to succeed in thy will. If it is your will that I stay, please let the first thing my eyes see be an item of aid.

Celestia might not have approved of such a prayer. Asking the Goddess for miracles directly usually ended in misery. The tale of King Midas was only one example of favors of the gods better left unasked. Instead, ask for eyes to see every day miracles and a heart to appreciate them. But Lisa felt that 'item of aid' was vague enough she wouldn't be setting herself up for too much disaster.

So it was with great optimism that she opened her eyes and saw…

A feather.

Huh.

Lisa picked it up and twirled it between her fingers.

XOXOXOXOXO

Gryffindor clumped up fast, Lisa thought as the other students filed into the first greenhouse. Or rather, they paired off. The boy who everyone cheered for and a redheaded guy seemed to be stitched together. Padma's twin and a soft eyed girl came in arm and arm, though the twin, after some internal debate and Padma's hopeful look, unlooped her arm and sat next to her sister. The other girl sniffed, sighed, but sat next to a frizzy haired girl with a pile of books reminiscent of Lisa's yesterday.

Shoot, if Lisa didn't want to get roped into sitting with one of her housemates… She slid into a back row seat next to a round-faced, brown haired boy.

"Mind if I join?" She asked belatedly, unpacking her bag and setting her texts on the table, before he could respond. "Thanks."

"N-no problem." He mumbled. Then after a moment, of awkward shuffling and dropping several quills, ink bottles as he tried to extract his text book from his bag, "Um… are you making a quill?"

Lisa was indeed attempting to make a quill. The idea had struck her on her walk to the greenhouse as she twirled her newfound feather between her fingers. This was an item of aid, but how? A totem of her house? A reminder of some mythical creature? A-

It had struck her as stupidly obvious once she saw it. Mandy had made several comments about her pens yesterday- glancing between them and the ubiquitous quills around them. Just one more thing poor, stupid Turpin didn't have, her eyebrows seemed to say.

"Yeah," She answered shortly, trying to line her knife up with the end of the feather. "A friend of the family taught me. It's pretty simple." Cut a scoop at the angle, thin down the nib, add a slice to hold ink.

"Wow." The boy sounded impressed as the quill took shape, "I'm already lost three of mine. On the first day. Don't know where they go. I'm going to have to write Gran for more." Which was, according to his desultory tone, a fate worse than death.

"Well, it's not hard," She repeated- holding it up for inspection, "If you find me a feather, I'll teach you. Then you don't have to write to anyone."

"Really?" The boy's eyebrows rose, "T-that would be great. I mean- I don't know if I can- but-"

"Well, we can figure that out when you bring me a feather." Lisa interrupted. She didn't want to listen to any whinging. "Can I borrow your ink? I left mine in my room." Not technically true, but since the Goddess had gifted her with the feather, she had thought of another work around.

"Oh sure." He pushed the ink pot over to her so quickly, it splashed out and darkened his fingers. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Really?" She glanced at him in bemusement, "I'm sorry." That was a horrible last name. He must have been teased mercilessly in elementary school.

"Oh- it's-" He looked stricken, deep grief warring with embarrassment, but settled on gratitude. "Thank you. That was very kind to say."

She was spared from any further comment by a round, cheerful faced witch in galoshes, clearing her throat and tapping the black board. A very abbreviated syllabus appeared.

"Right-o class, I am Professor Sprout, your professor of Herbology for the next five years." She had a good voice that carried over the murmurs of the students. "Who can tell me what Herbology is?"

The frizzy haired girl's hand was up so fast Lisa wondered if she heard the question. There was a low level muttering from the other Gryffindors- especially the redhaired boy- and a lot of eyerolling. Lisa guessed that this wasn't the first time the girl was first out of the gate with answering. Professor Sprout merely nodded at her to answer.

"Herbology is the study of magical and mundane plants for magical or mundane use. From the latin 'herba' meaning grass, an herb, a weed and the Greek logia- meaning a subject of study or interest."

"Goddess, she sounds like a dictionary," Lisa muttered to herself. Even the Ravenclaws were staring at the girl with raised eyebrows.

"Well done, Miss Granger. A point for Gryffindor." The girl settled back into her seat, looking very proud of herself. Lisa felt an immediate stab of dislike. Miss Granger and Mandy would get along famously.

"No doubt in your other classes, you've heard a great deal about theory. The theory of Herbology is simple: keep the plant alive." She smacked the blackboard for emphasis, "It's the practice that is tricky and turns Herbology into an art rather than science. There are mundane questions: how much sun does the plant need? What is the right composition of soil? When should you prune and how? But there are magical considerations too: what phase of the moon are we in? What ambient magic does the plant need to thrive? When do you use a spell vs a potion to get rid of pests. Or your hands?" She stared around the room as if daring any of them to answer right now.

"These things can only be taught in one way: experience! All the reading in the world can't compare to one hour of getting your hands in the dirt," She continued. The frizzy haired girl, Lisa noted happily, looked offended at the idea you couldn't learn everything from a book. "And even then, you might not be a good Herbalist. You need a strong intuition, a good heart, and plenty of patience. But if you have these, this class will be one of the most useful and practical that you can find.

"Now there are more than enough plants for each of you to have one-" Professor Sprout pointed to the wooden shelves that surrounded the room. Dozens of small, potted plants were scattered around. "Find a plant you like, bring it back to your seat and spend the next 40 minutes drawing it. Best way to know a plant is to look at it. Does it have flowers? How many leaves does it have? How are they grouped on the stem? Your homework is to identify the plant you have chosen, label all the parts, and then write out four things it is used for. Turn that in, with your picture, first thing in the next class. Any questions? Good. Begin!"

Oh thank you Goddess, Lisa prayed quietly as the students rose to their feet and hurried to find the most exotic of the plants. They would be hard pressed to, Lisa realized after a moment, these were all very basic magical herbs: rosemary, thyme, mint, lemon balm, etc. All plants her mum had tried, at various points in her life, to cultivate in their windowstill. Powerful plants, but familiar.

Apparently others didn't think so.

"Um. Professor Sprout?" The bushy haired witch had raised her hand again, "Are these really magical plants? They seem... normal." She sounded disappointed.

"Muggles grow these plants?" Morag was passing by with a large, verdant rosemary in her arms. But she paused and stared at the girl incredulously. Miss Granger colored.

"Well, my parents don't. But they use them for cooking sometimes. And I've seen them for sale at the green grocers." Morag gave her a very disbelieving look and continued on to her seat. Professor Sprout picked up the conversation.

"The line between Muggle and Magic is less defined than some would like to believe," She shot a stern look to Morag, "Especially when it comes to the natural world. Herbs have been used since before Merlin's time to cure illnesses, offer protection, and sooth the heart. Potions, and thus herbology, were the primary means of magic before wandlore was invented, not that that is remembered much now." Professor Sprout gave an annoyed huff and turned to where Padma was debating between two different varieties of basil.

"Thank you." Lisa muttered, as she plopped back into her seat, a pretty peppermint plant set before her, "Finally a witch who knows about real magic." Just please, please, please don't have her turn out to be frivolous, Lisa prayed, don't make this class into a joke too- the first real class she had.

"Do you like plants too?" Neville asked, he was nibbling on the leaf of the lemonbalm he'd chosen and watching her curiously.

"Every witch likes plants."

"Not really," Neville corrected timidly, "My Gran isn't a fan. She's let the family greenhouses go completely to seed. It's a good place to hide out."

Lisa shrugged. "Every witch should like plants." She amended, "They are powerful and our connection back to the great life force of nature."

Neville nodded at that and they fell into companionable silence as they sketched out their respective plants. It soon became apparent that Professor Sprout did not enforce the strict silence of the indoor classrooms. Conversation began cautiously and then swelled as the students compared plants and caught up with each other. Professor Sprout seemed to allow this, but every time a pair of students became more interested in conversation than drawing, she appeared as if by magic and began to ask questions about their plants until they refocused. All in all, it was a lovely, relaxed atmosphere and Lisa felt herself beginning to relax.

"Done!" A dark haired boy with an Irish accent waved his paper in the air.

"Ah. Mr. Finnigan, let me see." Professor Sprout took the drawing and considered it curiously, "No, no, no- this could be anything. Look closer, Mr. Finnigan. Notice how this plant is unique. Do you see the square stem? The feathering of the leaf edge? The unique pattern of veins? Try again and really look."

And so the class continued. Every time a student thought they were finished, Professor Sprout drew their attention to another aspect.

"Well done, Miss Patil. Now rub the leaf between your fingers, just like that, ah- you see- write down what it smells like."

"Mr. Potter, if you are having difficulty seeing, take a leaf and outline it on the page, then draw the veins in."

"Miss Li, there is no need to be so hesitant in the drawing. Some of these are quite good."

She stopped at their table and admired their drawings, complimenting Neville on capturing the essence of the Lemonbalm, and told them to keep up the good work. Neville flushed bright red with pleasure.

"Are you ok?" Lisa asked as his eyes became rather wet.

"Y-yeah." He blinked rapidly, "It's just. I couldn't turn my button blue, or do anything to the match stick, and I-" Lisa understood completely. She patted his shoulder.

"Neither could I," She confessed quietly, "But that's not real magic. It's just stupid tricks. This," She pointed to his drawing, "That's real magic- being able to appreciate plants." Neville nodded and set back to work.

At the end of the class, they learned how to check if a plant needed water (hers didn't) and then placed the plants back on the shelf for the next class. As they were packing up their bags (Neville's had a large rip in the corner and Lisa suspected she figured out the cause of his missing quills), the boy turned to her quite suddenly and said in a rush,

"I heard about how you cursed Brocklehurst in potions and dumped your cauldron on her head and that you are a dark witch, but," He took a deep breath, "I don't think that's true."

Lisa blinked at him, "Thanks?"

He nodded and hurried out of the classroom before she could say more. Well, that was one person who didn't hate her.

A/N: inspired in part by Renata MM's love of Neville and how I would love an Herbology class to be taught.

As always, follows, favs and views make me happy, but it is the reviews that really inspire me to keep going! Hope you all are having a great day!


	15. In Which Lisa Turpin is Conflicted

"So, I heard that you cursed Brocklehurst in potions and now she's in the infirmary."

Lisa looked up from the library's copy of "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection" to see Theodore Nott standing next to her desk with an expectant look. The defense classroom, at least she had assumed this was the defense classroom, was still empty. Lisa had retreated here after the furtive looks and whispers from her house at lunch had killed her appetite and made her long for home and Celestia.

"Well?" He demanded.

"Well, what."

"Is it true?"

Lisa slipped a scrap of parchment into her book and leaned back in her chair to consider the boy. The constant whispers of her role as a 'dark' witch were moving past annoying into the seriously aggravating territory. But Nott had been kind enough to carry her books the other day and was asking her directly rather than relying on gossip which, if Lisa was being honest, raised her estimate of the boy a lot. He deserved the truth.

"All I'll say is that my cauldron exploded and doused her with my still mysteriously flawed potion," she said. When he nodded expectantly, she couldn't help but smirk a little, "Immediately after I told her to shut her mouth or else."

His grin was wolfish in return. "Nice one, Turpin."

Lisa couldn't help but warm under the compliment. It had been her first official act of magic at school- after all what else was magic if not intention and then action in the world? Sure, she would have preferred to be a progeny of wand work, but she'd take what recognition she could get. Without asking, Theo slipped into the seat next to her and leaned his forearms on the desk.

"Why are you reading that?" He jerked his chin to her well thumbed textbook. Lisa shrugged.

"Trying to find out what Dark Arts are exactly," She pushed the book away with a sigh, "If this is Defense Against the Dark Arts, you'd expect the book to spend a few chapters on what exactly we are learning to defend against. But there's nothing."

Three books now had mentioned the dangers of these mysterious Dark Arts, but not one had actually defined what they were or what made them so dangerous which was bothering Lisa more than she liked to admit.

Throughout history, religious groups around the world had decreed witchcraft as a dangerous, heretical, and Satan worshiping cult. Hundreds and thousands of practitioners across Europe and America had been burned to death for their beliefs. On what grounds? Because Lisa and her mother believed in magic? Because they worshiped nature? Believed in their own power to influenced the world around them? Accepted that sex and death were parts of life? And yet, they were considered evil and dark while the religions that literally killed her spiritual ancestors were considered benevolent and good. It made her sick.

"What were you expecting?" Theo snorted, "'Exposing the innocent minds of children to even the slightest mention of the Dark Arts might scar them for life and breed an unhealthy interest.'"

Lisa wasn't sure if Theo was quoting someone or just mocking a widely held belief, but she couldn't help but grin at his comically high pitched voice.

"Seriously, even the definition?" she asked, "I don't know about you, but all their obfuscation just makes me even more curious!"

"Oh, but you should be quaking in your boots about the evil Dark Arts!" Theo returned her grin with one of his own. But slowly, under her curious gaze, his grin faded and a wary but curious expression crossed his face. "Wait. Are you serious? Do you really want to learn-"

The classroom door slammed open and Theo's mouth snapped shut- cutting off whatever he was going to ask as efficiently as a jab to the stomach. Padma and Su entered the room- clutching their books to their chest. They glanced at the back of the room where the Lisa and Theo sat then, without any consultation, took their seats in the opposite corner. Padma in particular had a worried furl to her brow when she glanced over at them.

"Um.." Lisa turned back to Theo, eager to continue their conversation, but the boy had curved into himself, making a big show of extracting his excruciatingly new textbook from his bag. When she caught his glance, he jerked his chin to the other Ravenclaws in the room. Oh. Clearly, this was a conversation that needed total privacy. That suited Lisa just fine.

"So, what did you think of History?" She asked after another moment of silence. "It's sort of-"

"There you are! I've been looking all over the castle for my Charms partner. Millie, verify for me. Were you discussing History?" Daphne either had the ears of a bat or fortune's gift of synchronicity, Lisa couldn't decide. The girl all but waltzed in, dragging a square jawed girl by the arm and speaking without the usual necessity of breath.

"Oh Merlin, don't speak to me about History. Can you believe we are being taught by a ghost? Professor Binns was here when Mother was a student. Of all things. Of course, Father can't do anything because it 'gives the school as sense of history and continuation.'" Daphne rolled her eyes as she set her books down on the table. Lisa noticed that the girl's textbook looked as if it had been bought yesterday.

"Oh, are you two sitting together? You are! You're coloring is just wonderful- so similar. You would have looked wonderful in Slytherin, darling. This is Millicent. We can call her Millie- she doesn't mind. She's the dark, tall and handsome type, you see. She absolutely adores cats. Millie do you have a picture of you cats? One bit me at a Christmas Party." She confided to Lisa in a voice loud enough for everyone to eavesdrop whether they wished to or not.

"You were harassing it." Millicent corrected, but she pulled a photo out of her purse. Theo gave it a cursory glance, but Lisa leaned forward- attracted by the moving figures. Just like in a small movie, pair of black cats gamboled and pounced at floating lights while a smaller, gap toothed Millicent smiled and waved at the camera. However, if her fingers weren't deceived, it was just a piece of paper. There were no motors to power a small television. Just like the portraits.

"So weird," She breathed.

"I know! It was Christmas," Daphne protested, "They needed to be festive with bells and ribbons! The party was frightfully boring anyways- everyone was in mourning or something. If you get a chance to go to a Bulstrode Christmas party, darling, decline. Her manor is frightfully drafty. Where will you be for Christmas break? Had Theo invited you to Nott Keep yet? He's terribly fond of you, you know darling. And you'll fit right in- especially if you go around blowing up your enemies cauldrons like that." Before Lisa could even think to correct that particular piece of gossip, Daphne splayed her fingers in Theo's face, "Can you believe that Herbology Class? My nails will be ruined- absolutely ruined. It's one thing to be a Greengrass, it's quite another to go mucking about in the dirt-"

Following cues from the Daphne conversation veterans, Lisa let friendly Slytherin's chatter roll over her sans response. Daphne lived in her own world, apparently. It sounded like a nice place. Pity, it was so disconnected from the real one.

0X0X0X0X0X0

After 10 minutes of defense class, Lisa was bored.

After 20 minutes of listening to Professor Quirrel stutter each time he mentioned the course material, she was stupefied.

After it took the Professor thirty seconds to finally spit out the title of the course syllabus, Lisa pulled her potions book from her bag and began to read about why mixing flowers that bloomed in the late summer were compatible with gold ladles but should avoid silver ones.

From that point on, the class progressed very pleasantly indeed. After all if the Professor didn't comment on the Goyle's snoring, then he clearly didn't mind her extra-curricular reading. As a bonus, he let them out early.

As Lisa was packing up her books, Theo hesitated by her desk. He glanced around, though whether he was looking for eavesdroppers or just making sure Daphne was far enough towards the door, Lisa wasn't sure.

"Uh, lets… talk. Later. If you're still interested." He muttered. Lisa barely got out a quick nod, before Daphne called from the door that she was waiting and a Gentlewizard never made a lady wait and – Theo rolled his eyes and hurried after her.

0X0X0X0X0X0X0

That night, Lisa hid in the letter writing room until curfew.

To be fair, she really did owe Celestia a letter. Here it was, nearly the fourth day, and Lisa had only sent one of her promised daily messages. But every time she set her new quill to the provided parchment, Lisa found herself hesitating over some aspect of her life. Did she really want to tell Celestia about how stupid magic was at this school? Her mother was expecting her to become as skilled a witch as her father, but she couldn't even do the most basic of skills. And what would Celestia think about the cauldron debacle? Or the teasing from Brockle-worst?

Giving up on the letter, Lisa pulled a new piece of paper towards her and began on a list of things she needed. Sometimes, it was easier to figure things out when they were spelled out in black and white right before her. Unfortunately, even in neat lettering, her list didn't offer any comfort:

- _Find a new cauldron_

 _\- Find out why my cauldron exploded_

 _\- Ink_

 _\- Parchment_

 _\- Dark Arts?!_

The sun set and a low chime rang out through the hallways of Hogwarts. It was almost curfew; the students had a half hour to return to their common rooms for the evening. Lisa was started out of her reverie and quickly scribbled a letter to her mother.

 _Dear Celestia,_

 _Classes have begun and I am well. Herbology is a lot of fun- we drew plants to practice our observational skills. Potions is really challenging, but I learned how to make a boil cure. I'll write it down and bring it home for the winter Solstice!_

 _Please keep me in your prayers,_

 _Love,_

 _Lisa._

A/N: Thank you all for your follows, favs, and reviews!


	16. In Which Lisa Turpin Makes a Deal

In Which Lisa Turpin Solves Some Problems

The moon rose. The moon set. The sun rose and life in the castle went on.

Gossip's endless appetite grew bored of the burgeoning Dark Lady in Ravenclaw and latched onto Professor Quirrel's cowardice. Did you know he fainted when he saw his shadow in the sixth year class? Or began to scream when Crissy Tenderfoot sneezed? Or was it that he burst out in pink spots? The rumor mills care more for spectacle than reality and Ravenclaw had the most inventive gossips in the school.

By lunch the next day, no one looked at Lisa askance or whispered behind their hands. When it came out that Septimus Powell solved every extra credit problem on Professor Vector's notoriously difficult pop quizzes and won back the points Lisa had lost, Terry Boot sat down next to her at dinner. The rest of the first year Ravenclaws followed- even Mandy Brockle-worst who had returned from the Hospital Wing with a very red complexion from the antidote potions.

So ended Lisa's first bout of notoriety as she settled into classes. By the end of the week, she had a clear hierarchy of favorites.

After a night spent impressing Professor Sinestra with her knowledge of not only the constellations but also the Greek and Babylonian myths, Astronomy joined Herbology as her top classes. Next came potions, for the mental challenge and promise of wandless magic if nothing else. Defense and History were fine since she found neither the ghost nor the coward cared if she read during their classes. Charms and Transfiguration were the absolute worst. A week of being seeped in the ambient magic of the old castle did nothing to help her wand work; her button remained a stubborn black and her match distinctly wooden.

The weekend came as almost a relief. Sure, Lisa might have a combined total of six feet of essays due next week, but at least she didn't have to suffer the Brockle-worst's smug expression as she failed in charms that everyone else slowly grasped. But as the weekend rolled on, a new concern began to press on Lisa's mind.

She still didn't have a cauldron.

Her next potions class was in two days and none of her acceptance material mentioned where one might acquire another cauldron. She had glanced into every storage closet she found, but while she knew there was a closet larger than her bedroom at home filled with nothing but feather dusters, there were no extra school supplies squirreled away.

The prefects warned the first years about Snape after their first class, though they were kind enough not to mention her by name. But each First Year left the meeting with clear instructions: keep your heads down, read the instructions, re-read the instructions, follow the instruction to the letter, do not mess up and give Snape a chance to take any more house points.

But if she showed up without a potion kit or a cauldron… Well, she lost ten points last time and it took her house two days to get over it. What if he took more? Another detention. Why did people have to be so stupid about the stupid house point system? Why did Professor Snape have to be so petty? Why couldn't she manage to do anything right? Not charms. Not potions. Not her wand. Not her robes. Not her books-

No. Lisa paused and took a deep breath as she stared down at her History essay. She was falling into mental traps. Negativity, her mother often told her, was worse than poison. It sapped your faith and your will. After all, she had done loads of things right.

Now, she had books- from the library, but books all the same. She had a quill and had the beginnings of ink seeping in a tea cup in her room. Parchment could come from the letter room. The Goddess provided, you just had to be smart enough to see how.

X~X~X~X~X~X

Proctoring the common room after dinner was the last place Hannah Tennison wanted to be. Ordinarily, the fifth year Prefect would be patrolling the hallways with Samuel Goldstein, her once boyfriend. But after the fight over the summer, he had decided they needed time apart and was now patrolling with Vanessa Clearwater and staying out rather longer than he needed to.

Not that Hannah was keeping track.

She was over him. Completely.

In fact, maybe she was glad to be in the common room where it was warm and quiet and she could focus on getting a head start on her owls so she could get all O's while he got T's in every subject and was dumped by stupid Clearwater and expelled and spent the rest of his days measuring cauldron bottoms and wondering why oh why he had given up such a wonderful and perfect and brilliant witch-

You see, she was totally over him.

"Is there a lost and found?" a sharp voice snapped. Hannah looked up to see the lank haired little first year standing across from her with folded arms.

"Hello to you too, Turpin." Hannah shut her Charms text book as Lisa took a seat across the table. The girl's jaw set in a hard line as she glared at Hannah mulishly. Samuel had looked like that during their fight. Just set his jaw and refused to listen to why she was, completely, utterly, justified in demanding a daily letter from him.

"Good evening Tennison. Nice night we are having. Enjoying your book? Good. Do we have a lost and found or not?" Lisa snapped.

Hanna bit back a sigh of frustration. This girl was pretty arrogant for being the bottom of her class in half her subjects. Hannah had checked the status board yesterday- just to make sure that her standings were still higher than certain people (they were!)- and been astounded to see a Ravenclaw in any position on the bottom.

"What do you need?"

"A cauldron."

"Why do you need a cauldron?" She knew, of course. But if the girl had just come in a little more pleasantly from the beginning, Hannah would be more inclined to listen to her. There were certain other people Hannah might be more inclined to listen to if they weren't being total aresholes. "It was a required item for school."

"Yeah. I know. Mine exploded."

"Did it?" Hannah mimed surprise, "Just by itself? Blew up without warning?"

Lisa's face was becoming rather red. Her shoulder hitched up, then relaxed. In a brief second, it was almost as if Hannah were staring at a different girl entirely. No longer embarrassed, Turpin's face held a thoughtful, considering look.

"You're upset about something."

"No, I'm not." Hannah replied sharply, fingers reaching up to play with the locket that Samuel had given her when he first asked her to Hogsmeade. She wasn't keeping it as a memento of course. It was just part of her look. "I'm fine. You need a new cauldron?"

"No, you really are." Lisa corrected. She hesitated, then glanced around the common room. When it was clear no one else was listening, she leaned in and lowered her voice. "Is it boy troubles?"

Hannah hesitated a moment too long, "No." She forced herself to drop her hand from the locket.

For a long moment, the girl just stared at Hannah, then she shrugged one shoulder and leaned back. "Have it your way. I was going to offer to help you win him over, but if there's nothing the matter… Do you know where to get another cauldron?"

"Wait. You can bring him back?" Now it was Hannah, who was leaning forward. But the girl only shrugged again and looked off to the side. Hannah suddenly was reminded of another rumor- this girl had been studying magic for years before Hogwarts. That her family was traditional and seeped in the old ways- magic that wasn't taught in school.

"There are spells." She hesitated, "or potions."

"I'm not going to give him a love potion!" Hannah hissed. Though she had, briefly, considered it. But those potions were dangerous and could get her into a lot of trouble if she was caught dosing an underage wizard.

"Not a love potion," Lisa said slowly, as though thinking it over, "Something less obvious. More… traditional."

"You wouldn't hurt him?"

"No, no- unless you wanted that," Lisa replied thoughtfully, but then shook her head, "Actually, no. Mum wouldn't let me see those spells."

"Oh," That was a relief. Almost. "Why would you help me?"

"Because you are helping me get a new cauldron," Lisa smiled at her, "All you need to do is give me a picture of him and one of you. Oh, and a letter describing what happened and what you like most about him. Then leave the rest to me."

"I don't want-"

"You can send it by owl mail, so no one will know! It will be our secret," She whispered.

"I'll think about it." She said, for deniability's sake. But she did have that picture of her and Samuel from Diagon Alley last summer. Maybe she could pop that in the mail. It couldn't hurt, could it?

"Ok," Lisa leaned back and crossed her arms, "So. Is there a lost and found?"

"Not really. The House Elves know who everything belongs to. At the end of each week, they return the items to their owner. If something is left over at the end of the school year," She shrugged, "But they wouldn't have cauldrons. Why don't you just mail order one from Hogsmeade?"

"Mail order?"

"Yeah. The Letter room under the Owlry has a stack of mail order catalogues from most of the major mail order companies in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley." Lisa's face still looked blank. "You know, you write to them, enclose your money, and they send it back? Have you never mail ordered anything?"

"Not by owl," Lisa confessed. Hannah frowned at that comment, but then shrugged.

"That would be your best bet. About that," she leaned forward and lowered her voice, "love spell. Would it actually work?"

Lisa smiled at her briefly, "As magic wills."

A/N: Thank you everyone for your follows, favs, and (especially) reviews! I've edited ch. 15 in form, but not content.

Also, I have just joined Tumblr as overthinking daily life. I'm planning on posting various head cannon and answer any questions you might have!


	17. In Which Lisa Turpin Files Paperwork

In Which Lisa is Concerned about Money

The owl catalogues where right where Hannah said they would be. Lisa gathered three and retreated to one of the desks to flip through them. Across the board, standard Size 2 student pewter cauldrons seemed to range from the 15 to 17 galleon range (the latter being promised not to rust). Galleons, Lisa knew by now, seemed to be made of real gold. She had only brought 32 pounds with her- the sum total of her savings to this point. But she doubted that she would be able to order a cauldron with pounds. The lunch lady on the train hadn't been interested in her money, after all.

Biting the edge of her finger, she left the letter writing room. She could, technically, go back to the common room and ask Hannah for some more advice, but then she would have to admit that she a) didn't have this strange new money and b) might not have enough of it. It was hard to decide which was a worse confession. Especially if Mandy caught wind of her financial state.

As Lisa meandered back to the common room, she almost ran into two Hufflepuffs leaving the charms classroom. Professor Flitwick was sending them off with a wave and a reminder to look over their essays more carefully next time when he saw her and brightened.

"Miss Turpin," He squeaked, "Sending a letter off to your family?"

"Not quite," She admitted. Then, a thought struck her. Professor Flitwick was technically her head of house and had been teaching at the school for ages. If anyone knew where a spare cauldron might be found, it would be him! Thank the Goddess for small miracles. "Sir, do you have a minute? I could use your advice."

"Of course, of course!" He smiled and beckoned her into his office. The small Charm's professor's office was much nicer than what she had seen of Professor Snape's. For one, two comfortable chairs sat on a bright rug depicting a raven in flight. In the hearth, a small fire crackled as it staved off the beginnings of an autumn chill. Though his desk was normal sized, Flitwick's chair was quite short, much to Lisa's amusement. But before she could wonder how he managed to even see the paperwork on his desk, the Professor took a seat and the chair rose until it was level with her own. "What can I help you with, Miss Turpin?"

"Well, there was an accident in potions," Lisa began. No need to remind him the trouble she caused her house, "And I need a new cauldron. Are there any extras in the school? Or lost and found?" She added hopefully.

"No, I don't believe so." Professor Flitwick tapped his chin as he thought, "While I appreciate your thrift, Miss Turpin, the best bet would be to order from one of the catalogues."

"I looked and," Lisa took a deep breath and reminded herself that wealth was no indication of virtue. Part of dedicating one's self to the path of the witch was learning to grow beyond such paltry tokens as money. Spreading her hands on her knees, she stated simply, "I don't have the money."

There. A weight lifted from her shoulders to actually be able to tell someone about her financial situation. Her Professor nodded.

"I see. Could you possibly owl your parents for some more?"

Lisa hesitated. She could ask her mum for money. That was true. And she didn't doubt that Celestia would send her all she asked, but what if that meant that her mum wouldn't be able to make rent this month? Or keep the lights on? Celesita's various teaching jobs brought in enough money to keep them content, but her mother's money managing skills were weak.

As her silence stretched out, Professor Flitwick simply nodded. "I see. Did your application for a Scholarship go through?"

"Application for.. scholarship?" Lisa blinked at the diminutive man. There was a Scholarship? But the welcoming letter hadn't mentioned a scholarship and there had been no extra paperwork to apply when the first owl came.

"There is no shame in asking for help when you need it, Miss Turpin," the professor fixed her with a stern look and Lisa could only numbly nod in agreement. If she had known there was a scholarship, she wouldn't have hesitated to apply. But Flitwick had already turned to open a drawer, his chair lowering him to the appropriate height. He rose and flourished a paper at her.

"If you would fill this out, Miss Turpin." She took the paper and looked over it. As soon as she touched the application, a series of questions appeared as if by- well, they were at a magic school. Lisa was impressed despite herself. Professor Flitwick loaned her a pen and she began to answer the questions to the best she could. Some she left blank: father's family, gringotts account, mother's magical employment, galleons of income per year, inherited estates, etc. Some of the questions were downright strange: wood of her wand, length her hair grew in a month, preference of toothpaste flavor.

When she answered all that she could, she handed the parchment back to professor Flitwick who folded it quickly and stuck it back in the drawer. There was a small bang sound from the drawer and a puff of smoke. Professor Flitwick ignored it completely in favor of pulling out another sheet of paper.

"Hogwarts has a mail order agreement with several vendors in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade," he explained as she scanned over the small boxes with all the school supplies she could ever want, "You won't be able to order anything excessive, Miss Turpin, just the standards, but we will provide for your education. Feel free to mark down anything you think you need."

Lisa quickly scanned the file for cauldron and placed a check mark with a sense of relief. That was another worry off her shoulders. Glancing through the list once more, she decided that the cauldron was the only thing she couldn't do without. A witch had to be resourceful, after all, and she had found work arounds for her ink and quills.

Professor Flitwich accepted the list, raised an eyebrow as he glanced over it, and promptly handed it back. "There is a difference, Miss Turpin, between thriftiness and miserlyness."

Lisa tried to protest, but the man cut her off. "This is a scholarship-not a loan. You needn't deprive yourself in fear of repayment. After all, tests require the standard rolls of parchment and official quills. What you can find in the common room will not be an acceptable substitute come finals."

Cheeks burning, Lisa marked off parchment, ink and quills. Making a show of scanning the rest of the list to see if there was anything else she might possibly need- but she had her books from the library and her robs suited her just fine. She had everything, or rather, hadn't had any problems with anything else. One thing she didn't see-

"Sir, is there an option to buy a basic potion ingredient kit?" She asked thinking about another way to prevent Snape's displeasure in the next class. After all, she couldn't keep borrowing from Terry. "There wasn't any mention in the welcome letter that we'd need one." Flitwick beamed at her.

"The welcome letter is more of a set of suggestions to jog the memory than a comprehensive list," the Professor squeaked, "Many families feel it presumptuous to list everything, considering how rarely the set of supplies changes from generation to generation."

That, Lisa wanted to protest, was a terrible reason not to be clear on the very first introduction to a magical school. But she bit her tongue as the Professor continued.

"For scholarship cases, we find it is easier for Professor Snape to buy his ingredients in bulk rather than buy a separate set for each student. I'll send a note to him explaining this confusion and he will be happy to help you!" Lisa doubted very strongly that Professor Snape would be happy to help anyone, but she wasn't about to argue after her Charm's professor was being so kind.

At Professor Flitwick's urging, she took one last glance over the list, hesitated over mittens, and then decided that her old ones would do fine- hole in the thumb or not. Handing the list back to the Professor, she began to rise, but sat back down has he began to explain.

"At the first of every month, you can come to me and reorder enough supplies for the month. Try to keep track of how much parchment and ink you use every month so you don't run out. I'll send this off to our suppliers with a little note explaining the situation. Expect some packages in the next few days!"

"Thank you sir." She doubted she had ever meant those words more genuinely. "I'll pray to the Goddess for you."

"At some point we really must discuss your traditions, Miss Turpin," Professor Flitwick squeaked as he led her to the door. "They have made quite a stir already!"

It was with a much lighter heart that Lisa set off for her dorm room. That night, she lit an extra candle for Professor Flitwick and said a blessing over his health.

A/N: Because apparently every HP story needs an 'Equip the Hero' scene. And it's more fun to be mundane than magical.

Before you ask- I don't know why the Weasley's don't have Scholarship funds. Maybe it's pride. Maybe their status as Sacred 28 prevents them. Maybe Lucius Malfoy (who is on the Board of Governors) denied their application out of spite.

As always, thank you for all your follows, favs, and reviews!


	18. In Which Lisa Turpin Receives a Cauldron

Even after a week, the mail delivery morning was an awe inspiring sight. Dozens, possibly even a hundred, owls swooped in over the morning breakfasts and rained down a flurry of letters, packages, and feathers over the dining students. You had to be quick on your feet to intercept your copy of the Daily Prophet before it plopped in your oatmeal!

Lisa craned her head back as she watched the avian messaging service fly overhead. Strange as the sight was, the owls were her favorite aspect of the otherwise disappointing wizarding world. Of course, it was a tad disrespectful to Athena to use her familiar in such a, well, familiar fashion, but the families treated their owls well Morag explained to her one morning.

Still, beloved pets or no, Celestia would never agree to own an owl. Even if they were useful pets. Even if it meant they could talk throughout the year. Knowing her mother, Celestia would let the owl out into the garden to 'stretch its wings' and never see it-

A letter slapped down on her plate, scattering eggs and bits of toast all over her borrowed Potion's book. Lisa yelped- but managed to duck as a second letter fell on her head.

"They're just letters, Turnip." Mandy mocked from a little down the table, "Though I guess you're surprised since you've never received any before?"

"Hmmm… Do I detect a hint of jealousy? When was the last time you received something from your mother, Brockle-worst? Last week?" Lisa asked sweetly, "No? Well, I'm sure it doesn't mean your family forgot you."

It had taken Brockle-worst a disappointingly short amount of time to decide that the cauldron incident was an example of incompetence rather than a dark curse. Before the end of the week, she had returned to needling Lisa about her robes, her library books, her lack of skill in any of the classes, her hair. Of course, Lisa wouldn't be a witch if she had taken the taunting lying down. Mandy was sensitive to her own growing list: the baby fat that hadn't quite been shed, the lack of care packages compared to, say, Morag who received a package every other day. Lisa was beginning to suspect that Mandy's constant comments of her handmade ink and quills actually covered up her own insecurity over being compared to Padma who was, apparently, some sort of wizarding royalty.

"Oh look! The Ministry is issuing a new tax on wand cores." Anthony Goldstein interrupted as Mandy opened her mouth to reply. The blond boy received a copy of the Daily Prophet every day and was fond of reading relevant articles out loud. Unfortunately, Anthony's interests seemed to revolve around growth and collapse of taxes on magical items- a subject that interested no one else at the table but Mandy who delighted to be able to brag about her father's position in the Department of Magical Regulation and Trade.

As Mandy and Anthony began to one up each other on tax law minutia, Lisa bent down to open her letters. The first was covered in her mother's familiar handwriting, but the other was unmarked. Piqued by curiosity, Lisa opened the unmarked one first and found a picture of two teenagers standing outside an ice cream store.

Oh. Hannah and whoever- wait, wasn't that a prefect? Lisa glanced down the table to where Hannah was absolutely not paying any attention to her whatsoever, and then a little further up to where Samuel, the Prefect in the photo, was talking animatedly to Vanessa Clearwater about something that involved moving the tea service around in a complex pattern.

Huh. Lisa glanced back at where the younger Goldstein was trying to get a word in edgewise around Mandy's conversation and resolved to ask her classmate what his brother was up to. She tucked the letter into her bag and opened her mother's. Lisa's throat grew tight at the sight of the happy scrawl.

 _Dearest Lisa,_

 _I am so happy to hear that you are doing well and that you have found a method to communicate with me! Though, I was quite surprised to see an owl approach me when I was weeding the garden, much less with a letter attached to its leg. It flew off before I could ask it to wait for me to reply, but I'll be ready for the next one. This letter will stay in my pocket all day and all night so when the next owl arrives, I'll be ready. Is there a spell to talk to the owls? I've never had one show up as an animal guide in my life, but maybe this is a sign-_

"Turpin?"

Lisa was distracted from her mother's rambling letter by Morag holding something out to her. When she raised an eyebrow as she took a letter that was, apparently, addressed to her. Morag shrugged.

"Came to me by mistake. It happens."

"The owls make mistakes?" Lisa asked. Morag shrugged her shoulder again and took a bite of toast.

"They're not, you know, intelligent. They just have low level compulsions on them and locator charms. It's…" She shoved the rest of her bread in her mouth and mumbled something about 'family secrets' and 'it's complicated.' Lisa tucked the new bit of knowledge away, but nodded her thanks and unfolded the new paper. Her mother's letter could wait as a pleasant reward for getting through Charms today. It would cheer her up that night, when the loneliness and strangeness of the place was the strongest.

This new message was written in an old fashioned, curving script so ornate it was almost difficult to read.

 _Ms. L. Turpin,_

 _Please note that your application for scholarship has been accepted by the Hogwarts Board of Governors. A small vault will be set aside for your school needs for the next seven years of your education at Hogwarts. Should you experience any change in financial state in the next seven years, you must alert the Board of Governors immediately._

 _School supply orders are submitted at the end of each month to your head of house. Please note that any additional supply requests will be ignored until the end of each month. Should your spending exceed the normal amounts, your file will be brought to the attention of the board for review._

 _Sincerely,_

The signature was completely unreadable. Lisa shrugged and was about to place the paper in her bag, when she saw that a smaller note was included at the bottom in a hand she remembered seeing on her Charm's essays.

 _Ms. Turpin,_

 _I spoke to Professor Snape about your situation; both your cauldron and potion supply kit will be ready for you in the potion's room in time for your next class._

 _If you have any other questions about your time in Ravenclaw or Charms, please come speak to me. Office hours are Thursday through Saturday from 5 till 8._

 _Professor Flitwick_

. . . . . . .

Was it weird, Lisa wondered as she ducked down into the dungeons, that she was almost looking forward to potions tomorrow? Sure, it was taught by the crankiest, worst teacher in the world. True, she blown up her cauldron and sent a classmate to the infirmary in the last class. But at least she had done something! Unlike Charms.

A week of waving her wand in secret and a foot of essay hadn't unlocked any magical genius for charms. Worse, at least half the class had grasped the basics of the spell. All the Ravenclaw first years, except for Lisa and Michael Corner, had spent dinner turning their dishware into increasingly garish shades. Of course, this fact hadn't gone unnoticed by Brockle-worst who had promptly charmed Lisa's plate bright orange for her since 'Lisa shouldn't be left out of such simple spellwork.'

Stupid charms. Stupid Mandy. At least, Lisa had managed to 'accidentally' knock over the gravy dish on Mandy's lap as she left for the potions classroom. Lisa couldn't suppress a small grin as she knocked on the door to Professor Snape's domain.

The door flew open and Professor Snape suddenly loomed over her. His glare promised a quick and painful punishment to whoever dared to disturb him without good cause. Lisa took a step back, despite herself.

"What do you want." His dark eyes fixed on her.

"Um. Professor Flitwick said that you had my cauldron and potion supply kit?" Lisa held out the note she received at breakfast as if to ward him off. The Professor took the note and scanned it quickly.

"Indeed. It also says that both items will be awaiting your arrival at your next potions class," When she didn't immediately leave, he raised an eyebrow and continued, "You are not under the impression, Miss Turpin, that you have a potions class at 7pm this evening, are you?"

"No." Lisa took a calming breath- though she couldn't say if it was meant for her shaking nerves or rising temper. The sharp tongue and aggravating temper had clearly not been due to first week of term jitters. Still, she had come down for a reason. "Would it be possible to meet my cauldron. Sir?"

There was a long pause, broken only by the faint crackle of the torches and the clank of armor settling into a more comfortable position.

"I believe I misheard you," Professor Snape said, right as Lisa opened her mouth to repeat her request. "You wish. To meet. Your cauldron."

"Yes." Lisa gave him a firm nod, "I know my wand. I know my athame, I know my pentacle. I knew my cauldron before, well…." Really, there was no point in bringing up the last Potion's disaster to this professor. "But I don't know this cauldron. And if it's supposed to be my physical manifestation of the cup, I want to meet it."

"For what possible reason, Miss Turpin," Snape sneered, "Do you perhaps wish to make friends with it? Take it shopping and to tea parties?"

"Maybe!" Lisa threw her hands out in annoyance, "I don't know what this spirit of the cauldron will like. The other one like marigolds! Maybe this one wants to brew tea one day. How am I supposed to know if I don't christen it?"

"Miss Turpin. Do not brew tea in your cauldron. Cauldrons are for potions and potions alone."

"Isn't tea a potion?" Lisa demanded. Her mother had half a dozen teas she swore by for everything from a runny nose to ghost hauntings. And honestly, the production wasn't so different. You had vegetation to boiling water and let it seep.

"No." Snape snapped and slammed the door shut. Lisa blinked at the solid wood and debated knocking. Could she complain to someone about the professor? Probably not. She was hardly the first student to be snubbed yet Professor Snape was still around. Lisa sighed and raised her hand to knock again, when the door swung open and Snape shoved a heavy wooden box and small cauldron into her arms.

"There is your cauldron and potion supply box. Do conduct your introduction rituals elsewhere." He sneered down at her and Lisa had to resist duel impulses glare or quail in return. Still, a witch remained polite in all dealings. At least with powerful people, Celestia said.

"Um, sir?" Professor Snape hesitated in closing the door only through the sheer force of will, if his expression was anything to go by. Milk curdled under lesser glares. Lisa bit the inside of her cheek and hesitated over the best way to phrase her next request. "I finished the potions text book, but I don't know why my cauldron exploded. And I don't want… to lose another one." She tucked the cauldron closer to her stomach. It had become dear in only a few seconds.

"I strongly suggest you do not, Miss Turpin, as Scholarship funds are limited." Snape grinned nastily as her cheeks heated up at the mention of the scholarships.

"Right. So why did my cauldron blow up, so I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

"You finished the text book?"

"Yes, sir."

"Even the appendixes?"

"Yes."

"And you now believe that you have exhausted every possible potions reference in existence?" He lifted a lip in a sneer as Lisa frowned in confusion.

"You said to finish the text book," She protested, "I did. But I still don't know the answer! So I thought I just might ask the Potion's professor-"

"Your dependence on authority is tiresome, Miss Turpin." Snape interrupted, "As you are not a wholly inadequate researcher, you might try the library." And with that, the door slammed shut again. Lisa juggled her potion's supply box and her cauldron, fighting down an irrational wave of irritation and tears. Two steps forward, one step back. Yes, she had a cauldron, but how was she to keep it!

. . . . . .

Lisa returned to the common room later that night fuzzy headed and defeated.

Halfway to the Ravenclaw dorm, Lisa realized that Professor Snape had sort of, kind of, maybe complimented her? So, without dropping off her cauldron or potions ingredients, she spun on her heel and ran down to the library- determined to prove Professor Snape wrong. Or right.

Whatever would make him mad.

Yes, the Hogwarts library was huge, but when Lisa asked Madame Pince to direct her to the potions section, she had been expecting a shelf, maybe two, of books. Instead, the Librarian had jabbed her finger towards an entire wing of the library. After wandering up and down the aisles in a daze, Lisa realized she didn't even know where to begin, so she pulled three volumes off the shelf at random.

An hour later found her only three pages into Horace's _History of Herbaceous Healing_ , eyes aching from trying to decipher the tiny, hand lettered print and realizing that even though this section was about a Boil Cure potion, it wasn't about the one they learned in class. Great. Now there were multiple recipes for each potion.

 _The Book of Potions_ wasn't relevant- less a book of potions and more a memoir of a wizarding Dandy's romp through the continent. _Das Zaubertrank_ wasn't written in a language she could understand. _Philters D'amore_ was a history of French love potions which devoured a half hour of Lisa's evening without contributing to her problem. _The Young Witch's First Potion Book_ was a primer for children written in the early 17th century but filled with descriptions of flowers and proper brewing posture rather than anything useful.

When the curfew chimes rang out through the library, Lisa's vision was swimming and her head ached. This was going to be harder than she had thought.

But returning to her bed offered little comfort. When she opened the door to her dorm, the quiet conversation ceased and no one would look at her. Su Li spared her one glance and then quickly pulled the curtains of her bed closed.

Okay. Lisa shrugged, set her new cauldron and box in her trunk, and crossed over to her bed. There was a suspicious stain on the cover- a wet splotch that hadn't been there before. Frowning and feeling the weight of three pairs of eyes on her, Lisa threw back the covers to reveal a wet mess of robes. The smell of gravy grew stronger. Tears prickled in the corner of Lisa's eyes.

"And so, Padma." Mandy's shrill voice broke the silence, "The Brocklehursts have a long and respected history. Anyone should think twice before insulting them."

Right. Tears were a real possibility now. Only the spiteful desire not to give Brockle-worst the satisfaction of seeing her cry, kept the sobs at bay.

Lisa was done. She was done with this stupid school with its stupid magic and its stupid teachers. She was done with the petty, spiteful teasing of the other girls in her house- with the vast indifference of the rest of the population. She wanted to go home.

Throat tight, Lisa spun on her heal and stalked, unsteadily, out of the dorm and into the common room. Finding the most isolated, private corner she could, Lisa pulled her knees up to her chest and fought the desire to break down into sobs. A witch didn't break down. A witch was strong. Capable. What would Celestia think if she knew-

Celestia. At the thought of her mother, Lisa remembered the letter she had received at breakfast. Diving into her bag- which was still on her shoulder, Thank the Goddess, she pulled out the thick wad of lined paper and began to read.

 _Dearest Lisa,_

 _I am so happy to hear…._

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _Dear Celestia,_

 _Today was a great day. I got your letter at breakfast. I also got the chance to explore the library today. There is so much to learn._

 _I promise I'll write more later._

 _Lisa_

A/N: One thing that always bothered me about HP, was how his story was the only one that mattered in the Wizarding world. Once Voldemort was defeated, life was expected to go on in perfect harmony? I like to think that Harry's tale is just one strand in the vast tapestry of the Wizarding lore.

As always, thank you for your follows, favs, and reviews. Let me know what questions you have or things you'd like to see- this story is mostly about exploring the wizarding world so is very susceptible to incorporating new ideas.


	19. In Which Lisa Turpin Brews a Potion

Dawn found Lisa stiff, chilled, but clear eyed as she bowed in the final step of the ritual to greet the sun. Rather than return to a wet and gravy stinking bed, Lisa had curled up on the nearest couch and fallen asleep. No one had bothered her- it was apparently a Ravenclaw tradition to fall asleep in the common room after a late night of studying or talking.

As she had drifted off, her mind whirled in a miserable clutter of questions. She was a witch, wasn't she? Wasn't Celestia? If she was, why couldn't she figure out a simple color changing charm? Or transfigure a match. Or brew a potion. Or find the right books in the library. If she was a witch, why hadn't she made friends with the other witches her age? Why did Mandy hate her? Why did no one else believe like she did? If she was, why was everything so strange and stupid?

Maybe the problem wasn't with everyone else. Maybe she was the stupid and strange one. Maybe she just wasn't good enough to be here. Maybe the owls had made a mistaking inviting her to Hogwarts. Maybe she should just leave. . . .

Sleep was the best counselor, Celestia often told her. When her conscious mind agonized over existential concerns, sometimes it was best to just let her subconscious handled it. After all, her intuition was smarter than her reason. Sleep on a problem, awake with a solution. When the predawn sky lightened the common room, Lisa's eyes were already opened, mulling over her new answer.

To put it bluntly, Lisa was pants at wand work. It didn't matter that she was sorted into the house of air, when she waved her wand- she felt nothing. So, there was no point in staying in school to learn Charms or Transfiguration. As for the rest of her classes, History was pointless, Defense was useless since she still didn't know what the 'Dark' arts were, Herbology was fine and Astronomy was fun- but nothing she couldn't learn better at home under Celestia's tutelage. Which left Potions.

Potions was… well, it was just fun. Could be fun. Maybe.

Lisa had always loved making tinctures and salves with Celestia. The clear list of directions, learning how to decide when to use alcohol vs oil vs vinegar- it was a challenge. Potions took what she liked about home brewing and turned it up to ten. Plus, unlike Charms, Lisa felt in her bones that she might, maybe, be able to make a potion.

True, the events of the last class were not ideal and she still didn't know why her cauldron had exploded (but she was beginning to suspect it was because of her curse). Which meant that if she could create a potion today, without her cauldron exploding or being ruined some other way, then she was magical. At least magical enough to be at this school. And if her potion was ruined again. . .

Well, if it turned out she didn't have any skill in potions, Lisa would ask Professor Flitwick to arrange for her to return home. What was the point of sticking around if she failed in every class? Better to be with Celestia.

Lisa took a deep breath and ran shaking hands down her sleeves as she stared out into the Scottish landscape. There. That was her plan. With a plan, anything was possible. Sure, her career as a witch hinged on this upcoming class, but after this, she would have an answer. And with an answer she could make another plan. Nodding once at her faint reflection, Lisa spun on her heel and marched down to breakfast.

. . . . . . . .

 **What are you doing?**

Lisa blinked at the scrap of parchment. Glancing up, she looked around, but all the other students were scribbling down the dense Transfiguration notes. To her right, Millicent had poked her tongue out the side of her mouth as she concentrated on having legible handwriting. In front of her, Anthony and Terry had their heads bent over their notes. Which meant-

Theodore caught her eye when she glanced behind her, but immediately ducked his head when the sharp tap of McGonagall's heels came their way. Lisa tucked the parchment under her own notes and made a big show of squinting as if she couldn't quite see the next line on the board. When McGonagall turned away, Lisa pulled the parchment out and hesitated.

She'd never passed notes before in class. Oh, she knew the idea. The other girls in her grade school giggled as they passed folded scraps of paper under the nose of unobservant teachers, but no one had bothered writing to her. So, Lisa couldn't help but fight back a grin as she scrawled her reply.

 _Writing out the steps for the Wailing Baby Potion._

Lisa made a show of stretching her arms up and over her head to mask the subtle toss of the paper on Theo's desk. Almost instantaneously, Theo nudged her stool with his foot and she reached her hand back casually, heart pounding in rebellious excitement.

 **Why.**

Lisa huffed.

 _I need to get this one right_

It wasn't like she was going to explain her revelation to Theo- he was perfect for Hogwarts. The Slytherin first years were absurdly close knit- he always had someone to sit next to. Plus, he'd been one of the first students to get the stupid color changing charms. Theo didn't need to rely on a good potions to prove he belonged.

He plucked this message from her fingers quickly and she heard a tiny huff of amusement- lost in the general murmur of class. Lisa read through her instructions again- she hadn't forgotten any of the steps- even if the wording of the later ones might have been paraphrased. She'd thought that their conversation was at an end, when Theo nudged her stool again.

 **If you still want to know more about what we were talking about in that one class, then meet me after dinner in the library- next to the portrait of Gorrig the Gross.**

What we were talking about? Lisa frowned in confusion. Could Theo have been more vague? That one class? Want to know more? Which class-

Oh! Did he mean their aborted conversation about Dark Arts? The promise of an actual answer had completely slipped her mind in the week of stress. She had assumed Theo hadn't been serious or forgotten. But before she could reply, McGonagall spoke up.

"Students, put your quills away and take out your wands. Today, we will continue our attempts to transfigure a match into a needle. Please keep in mind today's notes as you practice."

Lisa sighed and shoved her notes into her bag before McGonagall came by to drop off the new matches. Theo kicked her stool again.

"What." She hissed as she spun to glare at him. Most of the students were taking the brief break to talk.

"Will you?" He asked, glancing at her bag. The skin around his eyes seemed tight with worry.

"Yeah," the tension leaked away at her answer, "Wait- who's Gorrig?"

"The fat guy," Theo whispered. "Next to the library."

"Who's next to the library?" Millicent looked up as she pulled out her wand.

"Nothing," Theo snapped and sunk lower in his chair as Millicent raised a thick eyebrow at him in disbelief. But she was prevented from prying more by Professor McGonagall.

"Now, everyone focus today. With hard work, you should expect to see some slight change today- what is it Ms. Brocklehurst?"

Lisa closed her eyes as the Professor answered a saccharine question from the witch and imagined all the steps the Baby Wailing potion would take. Every now and then she'd wave her wand and scowl for effect, but her mind was entirely on the next class.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Baby Wailing Potion, intended to stop an infant's wails rather than incite them as the name might suggest, was not particularly difficult. In fact, it had four fewer steps than last week's potion and required only three ingredients rather than the six of the Boil Cure. Well, four, if you counted fresh and dried baby's breath as two separate ingredients.

It was with great pleasure that Lisa unpacked the small bundle of dried baby's breath from her potions supply kit and lined up the two different knives (silver and steel), a mortar and pestle (granite as opposed to white marble), and a silver plated stirring stick. This really was like gathering all the ingredients she needed before brewing with Celestia.

As an additional precaution, Lisa had waited until Mandy had waltzed into the potions room with the other Ravenclaw girls and took her usual seat, still proclaiming how wonderful transfiguration was- didn't Padma think- McGonagall was such a great teacher, anyone who wasn't grasping the basics of match transfiguration by now must be absolutely hopeless- wouldn't Morag agree?

Lisa barely heard the comments as she took her seat on the far opposite corner of the room; her mind was so focused on the potions lesson ahead of her. Today, she was taking no chances. Mandy could sit in her corner and aggravate everyone near her, but Lisa would find a nice, normal Hufflepuff table partner who wouldn't dare tempt her to use explosion based curses. She had learned from Millicent that Hufflepuffs tended to be a bit cowardly.

Of course, the Hufflepuff's had a different idea. A tight knot of yellow and black gathered in the doorway as they stared at the intruder to Their Half of the room. Lisa kept her head tilted downward and tugged on a strand of hair as she copied the potion directions from the front of the room. Thank the Goddess, they were the same as the ones she memorized from the book. Though, none of the interesting footnotes to the appendixes were included.

The clump of indecision was broken by both the appearance of the Potions Professor, but also when a short girl with a long, red plait down her back stepped forward with an air of one sacrificing herself to protect her friends.

"My name is Susan Bones. I'm going to sit next to you today."

"Ok." Lisa didn't look up from bookmarking the third and fifth appendixes. Just because Professor Snape hadn't included the optional directions, didn't mean that she wasn't going to use them. Her research suggested that breathing on the fresh baby's breath before adding it to the cauldron really would increase the efficacy.

"Are you planning on blowing up your cauldron today?" Susan demanded.

At that, Lisa did look up slowly and studied her potential potions partner. Susan would never be a beautiful woman. She had a figure that promised to be more stocky than svelte, but there was a certain nobility around the squareness of her jaw and an intelligence in the brightness of her eyes that Lisa rather liked. She raised her chin.

"Are you planning to annoy me?"

"No." Susan said decisively. But it was a no that arose from conviction rather than fear. As if Susan thought it beneath her- beneath anyone- to annoy someone for sport. Lisa's esteem rose another notch.

"Then we're good. I'm Lisa Turpin."

Susan nodded once and began to set up her supplies. The other Hufflepuffs seemed to sigh as one and settle more calmly into their seats. Susan plunked a battered metal kit down on the table. It was dark green and emblazoned with the Rod of Asclepius, the likes of which Lisa had never seen. When Susan pulled her cauldron, knife and ingredients, Lisa balked. How was that possible? The kits were basically the same size, but hers wouldn't fit the ingredients and her cauldron!

"It was my father's," Susan explained when she caught Lisa staring, "He was in the healer-corps of the aurorers."

"Ah." Lisa nodded like she understood the second half of the explanation. What was with these people and making up nonsensical words? She was about to explain that her cauldron was a gift from her mother, when it struck her that it wasn't. Instead, her cauldron was from some anonymous shop, chosen by someone else, bought with not her own money. A sharp pang of unease passed through her. How was she supposed to pass this class, when she had barely blessed her potion in her emotional state last night? Still, she rather liked Susan and wanted to relate to her.

Lisa pulled her athame from her belt and laid it on the table between them. The girl in front of them, Hannah something, squeaked, but Lisa ignored her.

"This was my mother's. I don't have anything from my father." Another pang, but an old one. The only thing she had of her father's was the stories her mother told and her eyes apparently.

Susan pulled away the collar of her robes to reveal a small, golden locket. "This was my mothers. It's enchanted to throw up a shield spell if I'm ever cursed unawares." The stare she leveled at Lisa dared her to test the artifact, but Lisa just nodded respectfully and Susan continued, "She was making them for all the Aurorers. That's why the Death Eaters killed her." Susan revealed the story with quiet, matter a factness that spoke of a long accustomed sorrow.

Both parents gone. For a moment, Lisa tried to imagine what life would be like without Celestia, but couldn't. So she glanced down in sympathy and Susan smoothed her collar back into place.

"I'm going to grab the fresh baby's breath," Lisa announced, "Want me to grab you some?"

"Thanks."

Lisa added Death Eaters to the ever growing list of things that didn't make sense about the wizarding world.

. . . . . . .

The Baby's wailing potion really wasn't difficult, Lisa realized. It just required some concentration when preparing the ingredients- mostly the baby's breath. The other ingredients, moon stone and selkie mist, were added right before the boiling of the water and right before you corked your vial respectively. Everything else was baby's breath.

Of course, that didn't make it easy. The modern textbooks gave lovely, clear instructions, but Lisa had learned that even in the simplest description there could contain half a dozen different contingencies that weren't mentioned. Like, take the first instruction. You had to cut 70% of the fresh flowers with the silver knife cross wise. Cross wise to which direction? Do the stems count as part of the fresh flowers? What if it wasn't exactly 70%? Lisa had included all these questions today's essay on the potion, feeling very proud of intellectual rigor.

The other potions were similarly vague. Mince 20% of the fresh baby's breath with the steel knife. How small? And why steel? Tear by hand the remaining - into how small of pieces? And why didn't Snape's notes mention that you should be humming a lullaby under your breath while you do so?

Half of the dried baby's breath had to be ground in the mortar and pestle (why granite!) until they were quite fine (how fine!), but the other half you had to separate the dried flowers from the stems, burn the stems under the cauldron while sprinkling the flowers over the concoction (why!).

Despite all her research, Lisa felt her robes sticking to the back of her neck as she worked and several times she had to step away, take a breath, and force her hands to stop shaking. When the chime rang to indicate their brewing time was up, Lisa took a step back from the cauldron with trepidation in her heart.

True, it hadn't blown up. Yet. That was a start- but neither had anyone else's. Lisa read back through the description of the potion one more time, but couldn't tell if it was too watery or the right shade of blue. It was difficult to compare to the color printed in the book; some previous owner had spilled a dark liquid right over the color swatch and had faded the page into a light brown.

Still, Susan was frowning as she fished out a long clump of partially dissolved baby's breath (didn't cut them thin enough, Lisa's brain supplied) and in front of her Ernie's potion was giving an unending, high pitched whistle that definitely wasn't supposed to happen.

"Do you want me to take that up for you?" Susan indicated Lisa's vial with her chin.

"No thanks," Lisa turned back to the book, "I want to double check it first." Susan muttered something that sounded like 'Ravenclaws' under her breath and shook her head. She packed up her bag with efficient little movements and gave Lisa one last nod before catching up to comfort the openly crying Hannah who had apparently prepared for an entirely different potion that day.

The rest of the class filed out, leaving their vials on the potion master's desk as Lisa sat, as if paralyzed, at her desk, too scared to actually step forward and present her vial of potion. This was the moment- the deciding moment. If she succeeded with this potion, then she was worthy of this stupid school and would stay. But if it failed… Lisa tugged furiously at her hair as she couldn't decide which she wanted more.

"Miss Turpin, if you do not surrender your sample in the next five seconds, you will get another T."

Professor Snape's sharp voice cut through her indecision. Lisa glanced up wildly and saw that all the other students had abandoned the classroom, leaving her alone with the teacher. Good. That would minimize an audience for her possible humiliation.

The vial of blue potion had barely been set down on the table before it was snatched up by a sneering Professor Snape. He uncorked the glass and his large nose quivered as he took a quick sniff. He sloshed the potion around the vial and then nodded. A large E appeared next to her name in his grade book and then upon her vial. Lisa blinked incredulously.

"Well, Miss Turpin?" Professor Snape, didn't look up from where he picked up another vial.

"Did-" She hesitated, "Did it- is it- Is it good, sir?"

"I sincerely doubt so."

"But it works?" Lisa swallowed as Terry got an A next to his name, "It will calm a crying baby?"

"Miss Turpin," the Professor raised his gaze for a cutting glare, "Do you see a screaming child on which to test your potion?"

"No, sir."

"Then we have no way of knowing." With a flourish of his quill he drew a T next to Hannah's name, "It is the height of presumptuousness to assume that any first year potion will work."

Lisa shifted uncomfortably and barely restrained herself from tugging on her hair in worried frustration. Would it kill him to give her a straight answer! "But- I passed? I can make potions?"

"Brew," Snape corrected as he frowned at the next potion, "And no, Miss Turpin, you are nowhere near to brewing an adequate potion. But you may not be as dunderheaded as your fellow year mates, though you show a disappointing reliance on external validation."

Wait. Lisa narrowed her eyes. Did he-?

"So I did brew the potion correctly?"

The Professor gave a long suffering sigh and raised two long fingers to the bridge of his nose. Lisa hoped viciously that a headache was building behind his eyes. He deserved it.

"Miss Turpin, you brewed a potion that exceeded the expectations of a first year potions student. However," He added acidly as he saw her begin to brighten, "If you dared turn in a potion of that quality in your third or- merlin forbid- NEWT year class, you would be laughed out of the room."

"What!" Lisa exclaimed, the joy brewing a correct potion, immediately dwarfed by the criticism, "But I followed all the directions!"

"Did you breathe a sweet breath on the flowers before processing it?"

"Yes."

"And hum a lullaby under your breath?"

"Of course."

"And sleep with the moon stones under your pillow then let them soak in a cup of cold water for breakfast?"

"Yes- wait- what? That wasn't in the book."

"Nor would it be, Miss Turpin, as even a rudimentary knowledge of gemstones would tell you that moon stone must never be placed under your pillow lest it pick up the unconscious remnants of your dreams and thus be tainted for any potion use."

"Then why did-" Lisa was beginning to expect that Professor Snape took a small and vicious pleasure in toying with his students. No wonder most of the other kids avoided him like the plague.

"Because Miss Turpin, you must learn that true intelligence does not reside in the blind memorization of endless appendixes and rules." Professor Snape leaned forward, his dark eyes bright and glittering, "You must learn to think- if you are to achieve any degree of potion mastery or any mastery in your own life. You must think. You must research. You must ignore the imposed limits of institutions and authority."

"Yes. But-" Lisa struggled to put her thoughts into words.

"But what." Professor Snape uncorked another vial and grimaced at the thick smell of carnation that filled the room. Lisa took the distraction to collect herself. Celestia had always emphasized the importance of thinking for herself. It was the sign of a good witch. But, a witch also had to learn when to ask for help- rather than risk hubris. After all, she was on a lifelong path of learning.

"Sir," Lisa began again, "You are being paid to teach me. Guide me to the answers, if you won't answer them." Her eyes were watering from the smell of the uncorked potion and she blinked rapidly.

"Have I not?" The Professor waved his wand and air cleared. A T appeared next to Sally-Anne's name. He seemed mockingly amused by the deep, appreciative breath Lisa took.

"I asked you why my cauldron blew up and you basically told me to go read the entire library." Lisa said flatly, "Sir."

"And have you?"

"Have you seen the size of the library!" Lisa cried as he picked up another vial. "Where am I supposed to even start? Most of the books are completely useless-"

"Use is relative." Mandy got an E and Lisa glared.

"Or not in English-"

"So learn the language." Padma got an A.

"Or just some random guy's ramblings as he dates his way across Europe."

"Maybe more relevant in a few years." Snape commented dryly as he put aside the last potion, then seeing Lisa's glare sighed, "What is your point, Miss Turpin?"

"If you're not going to answer my question, can you at least tell me what sort of books to be looking at? Titles? Authors? Anything?"

"I believe, Miss Turpin, that is what the bibliography of your text book is for." Snape replied smugly as he banished the potion vials to the sink.

To her credit, Lisa waited until she was well down the hallway before she let out a howl of pure rage. She was going to wipe that condescending, smug smirk off the Professor's face if it was the last thing she did!

It took her even longer to realize that she had actually passed the potion and would be staying in Hogwarts after all.

. . . . . . . . . .

 _Dear Celestia,_

 _Remember all those books we read where the hero or heroine had to put up with snarky, smug, mean teacher who was supposedly a genius and taught them more than anyone? I bet he wasn't a genius and I bet they could have learned from anyone else. Teachers should be nice and like their students. Not answer questions with more questions and-_

 _I miss you a lot. But I'm going to stick this out and brew the best potion you've ever seen._

 _Love,_

 _Lisa_

A/N: I like the character concept of Susan Bones- parents died fighting in the war. Being raised by the head of the Magical Law Enforcement. She would probably have a kick ass Avenger complex and clearly not be afraid to work hard to get what she wants. So many students were touched by the effects of the last war- but we only ever really hear about Harry.


	20. In Which Lisa Turpin Learns Dark Arts

"Um, Lisa? Could we talk to you?"

Lisa looked up from her mashed potatoes to see that Padma and Mandy had taken seats across from her. Padma looked nervous but determined while the Brockle-worst had a smugly superior look that didn't sit well on her freckled face.

"You can," She told Padma. After all, the Patil girl hadn't done anything to Lisa. Hadn't done anything for Lisa to be fair, but at least she wasn't a constant tormenter. Across the table, the two girls exchanged a look and Mandy shrugged in agreement. Clearly, this wasn't her idea and she was just here for the show.

"Um, we saw, in Transfigurations, that you and Theodore Nott were passing notes."

"No we weren't." Lisa lied smoothly, licking her spoon free of gravy. Her denial seemed to confuse Padma who blinked and frowned.

"Right-" She cut off Mandy who had opened her big mouth to protest. Clearly, the dark haired girl knew that discretion was the better part of valor. "You do realize, don't you, the connotations surrounding Nott, right?"

"What?"

"He's…" Padma hesitated, glancing around for the most delicate term to use, "His Family, the Notts, aren't exactly-"

"They're Dark," Mandy cut in smugly. "And if you start associating with them then people are going to think you're Dark."

Oh, Lisa lit up. So is that why Theo actually knew what the Dark Arts were? Because his family practiced them? Then why was he in the class for Defense Against the Dark Arts?

"So?" Lisa shrugged when she saw that they were staring at her and took a drink of her water.

"So?!" Mandy cried, "You're admitting to being Dark!"

Lisa shrugged again, "I don't see how who I hang around with matters."

"But it does-" Padma cut in earnestly, "Families bound together over magic. If your magic is compatible with the Notts that proves…" Her voice trailed off as if what that proved was too dangerous for polite conversation.

"That's stupid." Lisa declared with finality. "Theo's nice. He carried my books to class. He talks about interesting things. If that makes him dark, then whatever." She scooped up her bag and glared at them both, "But if either of your start being mean to him- what happened in Potions is the least of your problems," She promised and spun on her heal to stalk out of the hall.

"I told you," She heard Mandy say as she left, "I told you the cauldron wasn't an accident. She's a Dark witch."

. . . . . . . . .

"You defended me?" Lisa glanced up from her potions book to see Theodore Nott staring down at her with an expression of extreme confusion on his pinched face. Lisa brushed dust off her robes as she rose from the floor. It hadn't been hard to find the fattest portrait next to the Library and she'd taken the moments to start working through the first book that the potion bibliography gave her.

"Yeah. We're friends."

"We are?" There was a certain tension in his shoulders.

"Yep," Lisa said decisively. After all, if she was going to stay at Hogwarts to learn potions, she needed to make friends. Since the people in her class were stupid, she decided that she would befriend Theo, Daphne and Susan. Possibly Neville. "You're nice, you write me notes in class and you're going to teach me about Da-"

His hands clapped over her mouth before she could finish her words. "Dancing. Yes. I am going to teach you about dancing. Right now." He said loudly to the empty hallway. The portraits stared at them in amused benevolence. But at her confused look he just shook his head sharply and jerked his shoulder down the hall.

A/N: IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

Hey all,

This is the last chapter of this particular iteration of "Lisa Turpin Goes to Hogwarts." It's become sloppy- repeated emotional beats, no proper escalation of conflict, unnecessary subplots, etc.

Next week, I'm going to post the first chapter of the rewrite based on, wait for it, An Actual Plot Structure. I know, it's crazy. But I'm actually really excited, because I've never written enough of anything to see why a plot outline is important. So, this is a fun new challenge!

I'll leave this story up as a comparison and totally welcome feedback on the new one. Feel free to follow me or just check back next Saturday for the new story.

Hope you have a great week!

OTDL


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